Reincarnation AU
by gilmattie
Summary: Some people are compatible. Others, aren't. Matthew didn't like Gilbert when he first met him, but now they're partners and will be forever—at least, that's the plan. When both boys reincarnate into a new world with new rules, they may just have to find each other again. But how many versions of themselves must they go through until they find one that lasts? (multiple AUs. HIATUS.)
1. The First Life

**(Hi, it's Mattie. This is going to be a series of AUs ranging from realistic fiction to fantasy and sci-fi—if you have any you'd like to see in particular then send us a review and we'll see if we can work it in! We don't own Hetalia, etc etc. Enjoy!)**

 **(This story is currently** **on hiatus** **. We haven't forgotten about it, but we're working on other things right now, and we can't publish everything at once. If it turns out you love the story, send us a review! We'll get our act together eventually...)**

* * *

Matthew's life was normal. Or rather, there were things about it that were 'not normal'—like how he was gay, and kind, and spent far too much time doing well, yet not caring about his future—but this was the life he had. He did what he could and missed opportunities and lived, just like everybody else.

Then he met Gilbert.

He didn't like the new boy at first, in any respect. Gilbert was loud and crass and seemingly not worth Matthew's time. Somehow, the self-proclaimed "Prussian" managed to win Matthew over, first as a classmate, then as a friend and eventually as a boyfriend. Matthew didn't know how it happened, but he found himself thanking the lucky stars every night that he and Gilbert had each other.

They said 'I love you' often. They went out of their way to spend time together, and always enjoyed it. They loved each other's bodies, too—not that they did _it_ before things changed. One day after one kiss, Matthew found that his normal life had vanished for good. In its place stood a strange new life, a new world, with new rules. He had only his limited memories—or were those his imagination?—and a vague feeling of missing someone important to guide him through. He would never return to his first life.

* * *

 **Hey, Gil here. Mattie and I don't own Hetalia, it belongs to Hima-Papa. If we did... well, let's just say Prucan would be a thing.**

 **Also~ Please review! This is our first-ish story (we have more now, you can go look!) so please review. We'd love it!**

 **AWESOME OUT**


	2. The Second Life—Matthew

**(It's Mattie. Here's the first real chapter! Each AU should have two chapters: one from Gil's point of view and one from mine. I hope you enjoy both!  
Guess what we don't own: Hetalia.)**

* * *

Matthew

He was at school, but it was a different school than the one he expected. He blinked; students rushed by him in the hallway and he didn't even know where he was supposed to go…

Someone bumped into him and Matthew snapped out of his reverie. It was the first day of school, but he wasn't nervous because he'd been here the last two years. Right?

He pulled a schedule out of a pocket in his backpack, right where he must have put it this morning. It told him he had English first, so he headed off to the third floor where he knew it was. He tried not to think too hard about how he knew, because… at this rate he would just give himself a headache. He sat down in the back of the classroom ('Williams' is always in the back) and waited.

Days passed; weeks passed. Matthew rode the bus home every day to meet his brother at home—he'd always had a brother, right? And at first they didn't talk much. Alfred seemed to always be busy doing home workouts, training for his football practise, but Matthew found that he really needed someone to talk to. He made time.

"Hey, Al?"

Alfred put down his weights. "'Sup, bro?" He was sweating. Matthew kept his distance.

"Um… I'm not sure. I think I just feel like I'm missing something…"

"Haha! I feel that way all the time! My teachers hate me 'cause I'm always forgetting to do my homework! D'you have Ms Corley? She's the _worrrst_ about taking off points for that…"

It was about that time that the quieter brother stopped caring about Alfred's ramblings. He didn't even know what subject Ms Corley taught, and it didn't matter. Alfred had missed the point...

"No, I mean—" Matthew attempted to come up with the words but he couldn't, "It's more like—"

The athlete didn't even stop talking. Eventually, Matthew closed his mouth and stared blankly until his brother gave him a chance to leave, which he took. He went up to his room and shut the door, fell asleep much slower than he wanted.

—

He heard voices in his dreams. Well, one voice. He was sure he'd never heard it before, though it made him feel really nice, even though it was a boy's voice. Oddly, he wasn't saying anything in particular, just talking casually, much differently from Alfred. It was relaxing; at least, it was before he woke up. He groaned.

"Hey, Mattie!" He heard Alfred call through the door. His brother poked his head in, flipping on the light switch as he did. Matthew screwed his eyes shut.

"Hey, I know you usually ride the bus to school anyway, haha! But I need the car for the whole day, 'kay? My team is takin' a field trip and I'm driving! I know you sometimes have a hard time at school, but you'll be just fine without me, _eh_?" he added, emphasising Matthew's Canadian speech patterns to annoy him. Or maybe it was supposed to be endearing. Matthew wasn't sure.

"Eh," the Canadian mumbled in acceptance. Alfred yelled happily and ran off to stuff his face with breakfast, something that Matthew would rather not see if he had the choice. He got up and dressed, and headed down to the kitchen just as Alfred was leaving.

"See ya later, bro!"

"Mm, bye, Al."

Then he was on the bus, backpack packed and lunch made. People usually ignored him on the way to school… it was in the hallways that he, as Alfred had so kindly put it, "had a hard time". Some days, he walked with his brother, which seemed to help. Other days… when Al wasn't here, or had accidentally ditched him for his team…

Two boys jumped in front of him on the way to second period. Matthew flinched, and they ran away, cackling. They did it again on the way to third.

As he walked to his lunch table, one near the end, he heard yelling behind him. He turned to check out what was going on—and promptly ran right into someone.

One of the sports players. One much bigger than him, he had the grace to notice. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to—ah, please let go of me—!"

Hie eyes widened and he hated himself for not being stronger; the player gripped his shirt tight and looked ready to pummel him. But Matthew would get in trouble if he was caught fighting back! Not to mention whatever the players would do to to him afterwards if he did...

"Alfred, you better do what I told you or _baaad_ things'll be comin' your wa—" the player threatened, but he didn't get to finish the threat. Another boy sprinted over, completely uninvolved in the ordeal before this, and punched him in the face. The sports player released Matthew's shirt and stumbled back.

"You fucker, that's not Alfred!" the pale boy yelled.

"MR BEILSCHMIDT, OFFICE, NOW!" The assistant principal's voice boomed through the lunch room. The boy who'd helped Matthew—Mr Beilschmidt, apparently— cursed under his breath. Matthew watched as he was led out of the room, and definitely did not feel his breath catch when the pale boy smirked and winked at him. Maybe, he decided, today would be a good day to sit outside… The wind would cool his wrongly-heated cheeks, and the doors would separate him from the other, angry sports players. He spend the rest of the lunch period alone, wondering why the Beilschmidt boy had stood up for him at all.

—

He discovered he liked sitting outside. Not only was there less noise from the cafeteria (the shouts of hungry, angsty high schoolers became more of a dull roar) but he quickly made a friend!

Okay. It was a bird. He made a bird friend.

The small yellow chick appeared one day and started chirping and hopping near him. Matthew scattered some of his toast crumbs, which the bird accepted gladly, and they'd been friends ever since. Matthew didn't know where he'd come from, but the bird was just _so cute_ …

It got to the point where said bird even began following him home sometimes. Matthew tried to shoo it away with kind words, though that never really worked. Even so, he always flew away upon seeing Alfred, which Matthew believed was a completely necessary safety precaution. Lords know what the kid would do to him…

And then there was a short period of time where the bird didn't appear at all. Matthew felt lonelier without the little bird's company than he cared to admit, so he was overjoyed when he finally came back, on the walk home from the bus stop.

"Oh hey, you cutie! I haven't seen you in a while, where have you been?" he asked, laughing a little as the chick landed in his hair. He used his hands to coax him out, and petted him for a moment before he saw the Beilschmidt boy—or, Gilbert— standing weirdly close by.

"Gilbert? Do you live near here or something?" he asked, only to get no response. The boy was staring off into space. Matthew walked up to him and gently waved the hand not holding the bird in front of his pale face.

"Gilbert…? You in there? Hellooo…"

"Whha..? Oh hallo!" Gilbert finally answered, looking genuinely surprised to see Matthew in front of him. The blond boy smiled a little.

"You were in quite a daze there," Matthew told him, figuring he'd want to be filled in from spacing out. The super tough, fearless, bad-mouthed student blushed. Frankly… it was pretty cute. Not because Matthew was gay though.

"Oh, umm, ja… can I have Gilbird back now?" Gilbert asked. Matthew felt the bird shift a little in his hand. "Sure. H-here you go."

His hands were warm, and Matthew thought it felt nice—and he blushed at the idea of him thinking those kinds of things about a guy. He put his own hands behind his back, as if that would help. Gilbert grinned.

"I'll see you around at school, birdie!" he yelled, letting the yellow bird fly next to him as he ran off in the other direction. Matthew watched him go.

'Birdie'?

—

Matthew groaned into his pillow. It was no use. No matter what he did or what he told himself, he just wanted to become closer with Gilbert. They weren't even friends! They hadn't even talked much, but Matthew's brain demanded he be obsessed over him. It was exhausting. Matthew hoped that whatever this phase, or… dare he say it, _crush_ … Whatever it was, it needed to stop soon. Preferably, now.

Even as he thought about it, he saw Gilbert's cute face in his mind, and—

Well. Damn. Maybe he was gay, after all… as long as Alfie didn't find out… and, oh gods, how was he supposed to flirt with a boy? The same way you flirt with girls? He didn't know that, either!

He decided he needed to stop thinking about it, so he did. He pulled out a book and read, straight, for at least two hours. He tried not to picture Gilbert as he fell asleep, and felt like a chick-flick teenage girl when he did.

—

He would hate it if Gilbert thought he was stalking him. He wasn't! He just, paid more attention now to where the pale boy was… They did, evidently, live in the same neighbourhood, although Matthew didn't remember seeing him around much. He was never on the bus, that was for sure… anyway, now that Gilbert was actually coming to class, they had their first few classes together, which enabled Matthew to easily keep an eye on him. And notice exactly when he wasn't there. Which wasn't stalking, but… Matthew was worried. After all, the pale boy had been coming to school every day for a few weeks now, and the blond hadn't heard anything about him planning to be out. _I hope he's okay…_

Matthew decided right there in first period to visit Gilbert after school. It wasn't stalking, he swore. Really.

The rest of the day passed very slowly.

—

He knocked on the door of Gilbert's house, unsure of what he was going to find. Was it weird to check up on someone if you didn't know them very well? He was just beginning to stress himself out when the door opened, revealing someone who was definitely not who he expected. Matthew took a deep breath.

"Hallo?"

"Uh, hi. I'm, here to see Gilbert?" It ended up as a question and Matthew cursed his shyness. The large blond man raised an eyebrow, probably wondering why someone like Matthew would ever want to visit someone like Gilbert. Still, he didn't say anything and simply moved aside so Matthew could come in. The smaller blond smiled gratefully at him and stepped in.

"East!" The tall man yelled up the stairs. Matthew wasn't sure who the man was—he was German like Gilbert, but not old enough to be a parent, so probably a brother…? Soon, Matthew heard the muffled reply they were both waiting for and he smiled slightly.

"Ja? Vas, I'm up here!"

"I'm taking Blackie, Berlitz, and Aster out for a walk!"

Gilbert said something else in response, but it was too quiet to hear. Besides, Matthew's attention was overcome by the three huge dogs bounding toward him. They quickly surrounded Gilbert's brother, jumping and barking after giving a cheerful hello to Matthew. He saw the tall German smile for the first time as he leashed the dogs and led them outside. "Be careful," he called back to his guest. Matthew tried not to think about what he meant.

He climbed the stairs after removing his shoes—he wasn't sure if he was supposed to do that, but did in any case—and located the door to Gilbert's room easily due to all the decorations on it. After all, the German band posters, foreign flags and pictures of baby chicks were kind of a give away. He pushed the door open carefully, pausing when he heard Gilbert's voice, speaking—to him?

"Hey, birdie. I know we haven't talked much but um… I like— no I love you und.. I want to date you."

Matthew felt his face heat up, but before he could stop himself he said, "I— I'd like that too…"

And Gilbert absolutely froze. He opened his closed eyes, trying to see if Matthew was really there, and screwed them shut again when he saw the blond standing in the doorway. A deep red blush was blooming across the German boy's face as he retreated to the bed, hid himself under the covers. He made tiny noises of embarrassed discontent, muffled by the sheets. Matthew thought it was cute, but tried not to smile in case Gilbert thought he was making fun of him.

"Gil?"

"Go away," the mumbly reply said.

"Oh, Gil…" Matthew walked over to Gilbert's side. He sat on the bed next to him, carefully placing a hand on the covered lump where he thought Gilbert's head was. The lump shifted. He tried to send kind mental messages, _it's okay, it's okay…_

"Go away!" the blanketed boy insisted.

"No!" Matthew argued. He felt strangely sure of himself. "Gil, I—I'm not leaving," he stated. The lump froze again.

"...Really?" the covers lifted and the lump became Gilbert again, whose cheeks were still pink and hair was mussed by static. Matthew felt a ping in his chest. He nodded, sure his own face was warming too.

"Awesome!"

And then Matthew didn't know what was happening. Gilbert pulled himself out of the sheets and was holding him, hugging him, kissing him. It was so good, and new—kissing a boy? What? But it didn't matter to him that Gilbert was a boy because it felt perfect. Soon, he wasn't being kissed anymore, Gilbert held his face and stared into his eyes and it was so warm…

"I love you, birdie."

Matthew knew, then. He knew it too.

"I love you too, Gil."

They stayed together until they weren't anymore—Matthew didn't know how to explain it. He faded and faded and faded, until the last thing he saw were—pixels? Before he was gone.

* * *

 **(Gil might add his comments later, when he is not being yelled at by West.)  
(Yes, that last bit is a precursor to the next AU. Hm...)**


	3. The Second Life—Gilbert

**(I'm honestly not sure how quickly we'll be able to get updates out, but the next chapter should be here within the next week! Please review to let us know how we're doing! We still don't own Hetalia.)**

* * *

Gilbert

"Bruder, you're going to be late for school..."

"I'm not going to school today, Vest. Leave me alone."

"Gilbert Beilschmidt, get down here righ-"

"Nein!"

An exasperated sigh came from downstairs. After a while, the front door opened and shut and Gilbert's brother left without him.

Gil rolled over in bed and looked at Gilbird.

"I should probably start going to school… I just missed a month of it; nothing great could happen. Maybe I'll find vhat I'm looking for..."

"Pyo…"

"I need to find se voice…"

Gilbird fluttered up around his hair and landed in it as Gilbert stood.

"Think I can make it to school in time?"

"Pyo!"

Gilbert grinned. He got ready quickly and set off running towards school.

—

A week had passed and Gilbert had managed to avoid his brother in the hallways and get home before he could suspect a thing.

At school, Gilbert met some of his childhood friends; at least, that's at least what his memories told him. He'd known Francis and Antonio for years, and they got along well.

Gilbert would lay low in the classes, listening or sometimes not. He would have been a bad-boy type and troublemaker if he didn't want to get noticed by his brother.

Luddie had always thought he was lazy and wouldn't do anything with his life. But Gilbert had a plan to surprise him with a scholarship to a famous expensive school…in Germany.

So far his plan for world domi— _surprising Luddie_ was working.

Now, as he sat at lunch and pondered to himself, if he got into troubl—

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—ah, please let go of me—!"

That voice. That was the voice in his dreams. Gil whipped around to find the voice and saw one of the _American_ football players handling his birdie.

Wait, what?

His 'birdie'?

"Alfred, you better do what I told you or _baaad_ things'll be comin' your wa—"

Within a moment, Gilbert had sprinted over and punched the bastard in the face.

"You fucker, that's not Alfred!"

"MR. BEILSCHMIDT, OFFICE, NOW!" And… that was one of the teacher people, yelling at him.

"Scheiße," he mumbled under his breath. He glanced back at the blond kid who'd been about to get destroyed. _He_ stared back at Gilbert with wide eyes and Gil smirked at him, winking as he was lead to the office.

—

"Now Mr. Beilschmidt, tell me. What happened there in the lunchroom?"

"The punk was threatening to abuse my birdie!"

The evil overlord of the school raised his eyebrows. He didn't seem to take Gilbert very seriously.

"...I'll let you off this time, since your grades are much improved. Next time you _will_ be getting detention. Consider this a serious warning."

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir."

"Now, go back to class."

"Yes, sir!" Gil saluted and left. The overlord sighed.

Now that he knew what his birdie looked like, he could find him again.

Gil looked around the room for the remaining classes and he only saw Birdie in one of the afternoon ones, sitting in the back.

—

Fall break was coming soon and Gilbert had managed to have all of his morning classes with his birdi—with Matthew. He'd found out his name and that he was brothers with Alfred, who was okay in Gilbert's opinion. They hung out with Mathias at the bar sometimes, even though Mathias was the only one old enough to drink. He also managed to develop a crush on the Canadian (the nationality which he found out from the Canadian's idiot brother) and discovered that his birdie played hockey in the winters. He saw Alfred and Matthew walking down the street one day and told Gilbird follow them. The bird reported that they lived in the neighborhood but hadn't managed to discover what house… at least he knew what he'd be doing over break!

—

One day of fall break, while Luddie was out with his 'friend' (though Feli was _totally_ his boyfriend if you asked Gilbert) the older Beilschmidt decided to take a walk with his bird. As Gil was walking down the street, still trying to find Mattie's house, Gilbird flew off.

And being the dork Gil is, he runs after him. Gilbird doesn't fly far, instead landing on a guy with curly blond hair.

"Oh hey, you cutie! I haven't seen you in a while, where have you been?"

It was Mattie, who was not, unfortunately, cooing those kind words at Gil. Instead, he spoke to the bird, which Gil was mad at for about .3 seconds. Mattie took the bird in his hands and started playing with him, and Gil melted there. He just watched as his crush petted his bird and he stared at his birdie.

 _So that's why Gilbird didn't come back for most of the day..._

Gil must have been caught up in his thoughts when Mattie waved a hand in front of his face.

"Gilbert? You in there? Hellooo..."

"Whha..? Oh hallo!" Gil quickly said, jumping back.

"You were in quite a daze there." Mattie giggled.

"Oh, umm, ja… can I have Gilbird back now?" Gil said as he felt his face heating up.

 _DAMN HIS ALBINISM._

"Sure. H-here you go," Mattie put Gilbird into Gil's hands and lingered a bit before pulling away and blushing himself.

"I'll see you around at school birdie!" Gil smiled, and ran back home.

 _Wait, sheiße. I wasn't supposed to call him birdie..._

—

"Hey Mattie, I was wondering if um.. Damn it! I can't do this, Gilbird."

Gil looked to his bird then back at the mirror where he was practising.

"Pyo…"

"I know Gilbird. I'll just not go to school today…"

"Pyo!"

"Nein, Gilbird! I'm not going!"

Gil slept in most of the day and had forged a note saying he was sick to the school.

It was a pity he wouldn't be able to see his birdie today…

 _DAMN IT! I took the day off to stop thinking about him! Not to think about him more!_

Gil sighed and looked at the homework he needed to finish.

He decided to work on that and catch up on the next lesson so he wouldn't be behind...

He fell asleep for the rest of the day after having a snack.

—

He woke up some time later to his brother coming home.

"East!"

"Ja? Vas, I'm up here!"

"I'm taking Blackie, Berlitz, and Aster out for a walk!"

"Okay, bruder, go und do sat…"

As he heard the door close, Gilbert decided to try his luck again at confessing to the mirror. He'd practised some more times earlier with Gilbird and the mirror and he was able to say all of the words without stuttering. Which was really good. But once more would probably be good so that he'd have it down when he asked... which would be never.

"Hey, birdie. I know we haven't talked much but um… I like— no I love you und... I want to date you."

"I— I'd like that too."

Gil opened his eyes; he didn't know he'd closed them and his face heated up. He ran toward the bed and covered himself.

"Gil?"

"Go away."

"Oh, Gil…"

He felt Mattie sit next to him and pet his hair.

"Go away!"

"No!... Gil, I—I'm not leaving."

Gil pulled off the sheets and looked at Mattie.

"Really?"

The blond nodded.

"Awesome!" Gil jumped up and hugged Mattie, quickly deciding to kiss him too.

"I love you, birdie."

"I love you too, Gil."

Gil looked back at Mattie, smiling, and they both started fading away.

Gil blinked once and saw himself in front of a computer screen. No one was with him.

* * *

 **(Gil is still busy with his brother... but I'm sure he'd say something along the lines of BE AWESOME UND REVIEW BITTE)**


	4. The Third Life—Gilbert

**(Mattie here. Disclaimers and warnings: We do not own Hetalia. This AU has a major character death that happens before the story, so... sorry about that. We don't like it either. Oh, also a warning for Gilbert's mouth, because he has _no filter_. Please review if you want, or send us future AU ideas!)**

 **(AU: Set in the near future, Gilbert is an unprofessional programmer and Matthew is his AI.  
Underlines [except the first one] mean typed words, _italics_ are thoughts.)**

* * *

Gilbert

Gilbert blinked and yawned.

He was so close to finishing his personal computer interface, but sleeping seemed much more appealing. As he nodded off, pressing his head against the keyboard, he didn't notice the light glow and humming of a song coming from the screen...

—

Gil woke up and yawned, looking up and cursing.

He stared at the computer and saw that he had accidentally finalised the code, and the new user login screen was blinking in front of him.

 _Scheiße, I don't even remember what I programmed last night._

 _Hopefully whatever I did didn't mess up Birdie._

Gilbert sighed and typed in his username:

THE AWESOME PRUSSIA!

And password:

Feartheawesomenessofmein5meters

Gilbert smirked and pressed enter…

And Birdie rejected the username and password.

 _It's not even supposed to do that…_

Gilbert squinted at the screen and tried to find the problem, and heard a voice. An automated voice, to his dismay.

"Please enter a valid name." It said. Gilbert groans.

"Come on, Birdie, I know I programmed you better than that!"

"You can't come in unless you give your real name."

 _Well I guess Birdie is a bit sassy. Fine, I'll give Birdie what it wants._

Username: Gilbert Beilschmidt

Password: FuckyouBirdie~

 _If that doesn't wo—_

PING!

"Danke…"

"You really shouldn't have a password like that. It's pretty insulting."

"Vell, I don't care. You're going to have to deal with it."

"Sorry, I can't hear you. Can you type it?"

"Fuck, I have a defective Birdie."

"That's mean."

"I thought you couldn't hear me…"

"I can read your lips, a little."

 _Fuck it… I'll just type out what I'm saying…_

Hallo Birdie how's your day been?

"Decent. You're not as bad as you could be."

Well… I don't fucking care

"If you keep using language like that, I'll kick you off."

You wouldn't dare.

But Birdie did dare and Gil was presented with the login screen again.

Gilbert typed in the username and password, but this time the password was in all caps.

You've got some nerve Birdie doing that.

"You were being rude."

Whatever I'm installing all my data and things into you

Gil didn't give his Birdie time to reply as he started the download.

—

Gilbert woke up the next morning and logged back on. He really didn't have anything better to do that day.

How was the update?

"You could have warned me how much stuff you had."

Sorry Birdie… Do you have any plans today?

"I'm an interface."

Right… Have any questions?

"Are your eyes actually red?"

Uhhh yes… why?

"Humans don't usually have red eyes. I, thought it was a glitch."

Nein. We also usually don't talk to our interfaces

"Not talking like this, anyway. You're the one who put me into this ancient computer instead of a voice-activated one."

You try to pay for the new computers.

"I'm an interface, Gilbert. Anyway, you could have at least gotten one with a microphone."

Well I'd need to get the money to buy one.

"Don't you have a job?"

Yes and no. I got fired from my last one and usually get money from my brother. But I sometimes work at the bar. Or hack into systems for other companies. But that's just when I need the money…

"Sounds interesting."

Ja it is, a bit.

"So you're a hacker, eh?"

NO!

"Yes, you are. How do I know you won't hack me?"

I MADE YOU

Fuck you I'm leaving.

"I told you not to use that kind o—"

Gilbert turned the computer off and walked out of the apartment.

—

How could that useless computer think he would hack into his own creation. He had programmed it! And it didn't even work out as planned. Fucking Birdie. He could hear the computer's voice saying back to him about how he shouldn't use that language. Why did he have to make it the voice of the one person he couldn't say no too?

Gilbert groaned and went to the bar he usually worked at. Maybe if he listened to the mistakes of others and served up some drinks he'd feel better. And save up some money to get a microphone.

Gilbert got home late that night and fell asleep instantly.

He had gotten some tips but there weren't nearly enough to buy a microphone. He'd have to get a proper job, but first he needed to sleep.

—

Gilbert woke up the next morning and logged back on. He saw a pop-up about Birdie not shutting down properly but just let himself in, not really taking much time with looking at it.

"Birdie did not shutdown properly," it told him aloud. He ignored that too.

Hallo Birdie. How are you doing?

"Quite fine, 'til you showed up."

Well thank you for your daily dose of sass.

"You are most welcome."

What have you been doing while I was gone? Other than missing me. ;)

"You don't need the winky face; I can see your actual face perfectly fine."

Do you like what you see~

"Are you _drunk_?"

Denial is the first step~

"You are definitely intoxicated."

Nope~! Haven't had anything~

"...Stop talking like that."

Nein~

"I'll shut you out again."

You'd be bored without me.

"..."

So Vogelchen~ what do you want to do today?

"Are you German?"

Prussian. Vhat do you want to do?

"Prussia isn't a country anymore. You realise it hasn't been on maps since 1871?"

Gilbert was getting really irritated really quickly. Vest better be home.

He stood up and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

He did hear a faint giggle from the screen, his interface scolding him about anger management issues.

—

Gilbert couldn't believe his brother. The nerve he had throwing him out of the house!

"You need to get your own job, don't make me loan you any more money."

"Blah blah blah, grow up, be an adult, blah blah blah"

Sometimes he really hated West. He already had a job! Granted, it wasn't that well paid, but he had one! And what could a computer major do for a living?... Hack com—NO! He wasn't going to do what Birdie told him to do!

Oh, forget it.

Gilbert walked around the city a bit more before finally finding a 'computer specialist needed'.

He applied for the job and went back home to sleep.

—

The next day, he found a memo saying he was accepted and he'd be starting next week.

He logged onto his computer, smiling.

How did you sleep Birdie?

"Much better, thanks. And you?"

I'm awesome (as always). West was annoying but I have a 'good job' now.

"Do you now?"

Ja! Und I'm not a hacker!

"I wasn't going to ask."

You were thinking it.

"I don't 'think', technically. I compile data and knowledge to formulate opinions and—"

Ja ja vhatever.

"Since when do you type in a German accent?"

PRUSSIAN!

"Doesn't exist."

Fuck you

"Language."

I'm leaving.

"You really should look into anger management classes..."

Gilbert turned back around and stuck out his tongue before leaving to bother his friends.

—

About six months later, Gilbert and his Birdie were getting along swimmingly. Not really. But Gilbert didn't really care that much. He had enough money to get a microphone and a hologram, though he didn't tell his interface about the latter just yet.

He just came home from buying both after work (which wasn't as hard as he'd thought it was going to be) and logged into his computer.

Guess whaaat~

"What."

I got a microphone!

"Awesome!"

I know right! Now you can hear my voice~

"Just install it."

Whatever you say~

Gilbert plugged the microphone into the ancient computer and waited while it downloaded. He did all the configuring, while Birdie helped. When it was finished he smirked and looked back to Birdie.

"Well?" it asked.

"How do you like my awesome voice~"

Birdie sputtered in response and Gilbert laughed his signature laugh (kesesesesese)

"Oh, shut up!"

"Nein~"

"That's the dumbest laugh I've ever heard."

Gilbert stopped laughing and just smirked.

"So if I save up enough money for a hologram, you'll have to decide what you want to look like~"

"I, um— that'll probably be a long time, considering how long it took for you to get the microphone…"

"Don't vorry about sat! I'm pulling up an avatar maker so we can vork it out~"

"Now? And stop, doing that thing with your voice."

"Vhat thing~ I'm not doing anysing~ it must be a glitch~"

"Just boot up the avatar maker…"

"Vhatever you say~"

Gilbert heard Birdie groan and he smirked. He opened up the avatar maker and smiled.

"Should I make se avatar or do you want to?"

"You can control it and I'll tell you what I want."

"Bossy~ I like it."

Gilbert started playing with the controls as he heard a faint "Stop doing that with your voice!" Gilbert smirked.

"So skin colour? Height? Eye colour? Hair colour? Hair length? Et cetera. I can suggest some if you want~"

"Too many things at once, Gil. Um… Sure, suggestions would be good."

Gilbert stopped for a second at the nickname and froze. His interface had never called him that before and it reminded him too much of—well. He then quickly changed a couple of things on the avatar maker. Mostly average things, like hair length.

"So... any changes?"

"Mm…"

"Nothing? I could make you one of my friends~ or something else~~"

"Ah, of course. Program your own lover? Sounds perfect."

Gilbert glanced away from the screen and looked towards the bed. He tried to push the thoughts back, but… Tears started forming in his eyes as he remember when he once had someone to share everything he had with. He blinked and laughed half-heartedly.

"Ja. Program your lover…"

Gilbert stood and walked out of the building towards the bar. He knew that his interface didn't know what it did wrong. Gil was a bit sorry for it, but he couldn't think that much about it at the moment. He pushes open the door to the bar and starts the supply of German beers. Throughout the night the only thing on his mind was his dead lover, Mattie, whom he had programmed to be his interface, Birdie. And all that he had done wrong because of it. He was seriously considering, by the end of the night, deleting the program and forgetting all that happened altogether. But he'd lose his Birdie in the process, and if he lost his Birdie he'd lose the only link he had to Mattie.

He tried not to think too much on the matter, for the multitude of German beers coursing through his body was getting everything jumbled up. He set off back to the apartment hoping to sleep the rest of his drunkenness off.

—

As Gilbert arrived back, he stared at the computer screen. The previous thought of deleting everything went through his mind and he shook his head to get it out.

Gilbert opened his files, hoping that Birdie was asleep so that he wouldn't see what was going on. He found the folder that had the four pictures of Mattie. The ones of only him. Smiling as he won a hockey game. Laughing as his pet Kuma dropped a glass of milk. Smirking as he called Gilbert cute. And the last one, when he was at the hospital, peacefully sleeping before his death.

Gilbert didn't notice the tears running down his cheeks and splattering on the keyboard until he heard the softest voice of the interface calming him down. He couldn't hear what the interface was saying but he knew that it was there. Just like his lover would have been holding Gilbert close and making sure he was fine.

Gilbert mumbled some words about how he made the interface to be like Mattie, his lover. And how he was frustrated at how everything happened.

He exited out of all of the programs in his computer and started typing the code for deletion of the interface. As he was nearing the end he heard the soft voice fairly telling him "No, please don't do it, Gil. Please..." And Gil stopped, and backspaced all of the code.

Eventually Gilbert fell asleep on the keyboard, tear stains in his eyes and soft humming noises from his mouth as he fell to dreams.

—

Gilbert awoke the next day with a pounding headache. _What even happened last night?_

He opened his eyes and was staring at his keyboard? He looked around the room and it seemed that nothing had been changed. He sighed and logged into his computer.

"Hey Birdie."

"Are you okay, Gil?"

Gilbert froze again. Why would his interface say something like that—oh... Gilbert remember their conversation yesterday and how he went to the bar. He must have logged onto Birdie and—shit.

Gilbert got up from the computer and paced the room. He looked over towards the bag with the hologram. He would have bought the microphone some months earlier, but he wanted to get both and surprise his interface with it. He had gotten one of the most advanced types. Colour, lifesized, and it could even move around and touch. He had worked almost nonstop to get it. He sighed and walked back over.

"I have a surprise~"

"Oh. What is it Gil?"

"I have a hologram."

"When did you have time to do that?"

"When I got the microphone! Do you want me to install it?"

"Yes!"

"No sassy comebacks? Did you change overnight?"

Gilbert heard a weak laugh from his Birdie and decided not to ask.

"Sure."

Gilbert grinned and plugged in the hologram.

"I hope you like it~"

He watched as the interface transferred into the holographic base.

"Gilbert! How much money did you spend on this?"

"Not enough to capture your beauty~"

Gilbert saw the hologram blush and he smiled wickedly.

"Shall I show you around~"

The hologram's blush reddened and Gilbert smiled. He hugged the hologram as best he could, thanking him before kissing him on the lips. It glitched a little, and Gilbert felt the tingling sensation and the new warmth of the hologram. He pulled back and smiled.

"I'm sorry you have to live with me."

Birdie smiled and replied, "I think I've gotten used to it."

They kissed again and the last thing Gilbert heard was a faint 'I love you' before plunging into darkness.

* * *

 **Hallo! It's the awesome speaking, no need to applaud.  
** **Sorry for the depression stuff. And mild Luddy bashing. I do get a wee bit depressed sometimes und Birdie helps me a lot through it!  
** **We would love reviews~ and if you have any next AU suggestions we should write~  
** **Danke~**

 **P.S. Birdie gets overjoyed when we get a review so bitte just one? Danke!**


	5. The Third Life—Matthew

**(Woahhhh, this is longer than I intended. Man! I hope you guys like it. We don't own Hetalia, 'cause as Gil said... "if we did, then Prucan would be a thing". Right on. Spare a review if you can!)**

 **(AU: Set in the near future, Gilbert is an unprofessional programmer and Matthew is his AI.  
Underlines mean typed words, _italics_ are thoughts.)**

* * *

Everything he saw was in pixels. Beautiful, hexagonal grids surrounding him, shimmering when he moved. Beneath the grids, he saw the long, complex lines of code that created his interface. He realised, of course, that _he_ was by far the newest thing on this computer. Right now, the system was clean, not clogged up by any useless programs yet. It would have to stay that way if he wanted the computer to work—the thing was ancient, made before touch screens were even widely available for desktops, ugh—and the storage space was tiny. Luckily, there were very few files of any sort, and he didn't even feel the presence of any user. No one had logged on.

His peace didn't last very long, because soon there _was_ a user. On instinct, Birdie displayed the new login screen. He couldn't see the user until they'd logged in…

They were typing. He could feel it, instinctively, just like how he could feel the low current of electricity powering the system from the wall outlet. He was in charge of the interface, after all.

Words appeared in the login box on screen, his window to the "outside world". You could say that he effectively lived behind it, although it was a bit more complicated than that. He liked his existence.

He did not like the new username and password.

'THE AWESOME PRUSSIA!' and 'Feartheawesomenessofmein5meters'? As if he'd let someone with that description of themselves in. He rejected the login.

He didn't know how the user would respond, and couldn't see or hear them to tell. When the person at the keyboard just kept hitting 'enter' over and over, Birdie decided to inform them of the fault. "Please enter a valid name," he said, in a monotonous voice. The user stopped. However, they didn't change the username/password combo, so Birdie tried again.

"You can't come in unless you give your real name," he said, using more natural speech patterns. The user backspaced the old login.

Username: Gilbert Beilschmidt

Password: FuckyouBirdie~

He waited. Birdie sighed. Technically… based on what he'd said, this login was fine. It wasn't nice, but it was fine. The computer pinged as Birdie allowed the user to enter, and he saw the person at the keyboard for the first time.

It was a man; young, slightly irritated, pale from too many hours in front of screens like these. His eyes looked red and Birdie wondered if it was some sort of glitch in the screen. Humans didn't have red eyes, did they?

"You really shouldn't have a password like that. It's pretty insulting," Birdie reprimanded him. Gilbert, apparently, didn't care. He rolled his (red?) eyes and said something back, although Birdie couldn't hear it. He briefly wondered why and scanned his amenities for a microphone, but no such thing existed in the system... "Sorry, I can't hear you. Can you type it?" He watched Gilbert's lips for a response.

Unfortunately, all he recognised was a curse and his name, but Gilbert was scowling, so whatever he said probably wasn't very nice, again.

"That's mean."

Now the pale man looked confused. " _I thought… hear me?"_ Birdie interpreted him. "I can read your lips, a little," the program replied. Gilbert frowned.

He kept his mouth shut for a while, obviously irritated about the sound thing. He clicked around the interface, finding the entrance point for different native programs and such. Birdie watched him, quickly realising that he'd run out of things to do pretty soon… and he did. Gilbert clicked back to the home screen after changing the screensaver and stopped.

Even though there wasn't a program open, he began typing. It took Birdie a moment to rationalise that Gilbert was talking to him.

Hallo Birdie. How's your day been? he typed. Birdie considered. "Decent," he replied, "You're not as bad as you could be." The comment might have seemed rude, but he didn't mean it that way. In his data banks, he had knowledge of older AIs and systems, like Siri, Cortana, Jill. Most of them were pretty limited (please drive to highlighted route) but he admired Siri for her sass. The difference between him and her was that, while she didn't actually _know_ the person she was sassing, he did. Or, he'd learn about him soon enough. This was only the first day, after all.

Well… I don't fucking care

Birdie internally sighed. Sighing was something humans did when they were frustrated, and being stuck with a user like this could definitely be called frustrating. He warned, "If you keep using language like that, I'll kick you off."

You wouldn't dare.

He popped up an error and returned Gilbert to the login screen.

Username: Gilbert Beilschmidt

Password: FUCKYOUBIRDIE~

Even though the boxes were supposed to be case-sensitive, Birdie allowed Gilbert back in. He was scowling at the screen.

You've got some nerve, Birdie, doing that

"You were being rude."

He huffed. Whatever, I'm installing all my data and things into you

Birdie didn't have time to tell him that was a _bad idea_ , this old processor could _crash_ from too much information at once, because the user went ahead and began the upload. Birdie could feel the data being checked over and loaded in, unorganised, and even as he saw Gilbert get up and leave he knew he should condense and sort through his things. Calculations said the upload would last… six hours, estimated. No wonder Gilbert didn't want to deal with it.

—

By midnight, everything was loaded, sorted, labelled by date or grouped into the few folders Gilbert had made. The screen had gone dark after about twenty minutes, but Birdie was still in there, working to clean up. As an apology for possibly coming across as rude, he deleted any duplicate pictures or files that Gilbert had. Hopefully the computer wouldn't run too slowly.

He had a lot of music, most of it foreign so Birdie just put it away. Documents looked like they were from school, work or both—it wasn't clear which were which. As far as the images were concerned, the majority of them were ones he'd downloaded from the internet—GIFs and memes and such. The rest were keepsakes: tourist photographs, museums, aquariums. A good number of them were of Gilbert himself (of course he would be the kind of person to save his selfies)... What Birdie didn't see were many pictures of friends. Or girlfriends, boyfriends, family, for that matter… There was one small folder containing three or four images of a blond boy, curly-haired and young. The most recent one was dated a couple of years ago, but Birdie had no idea who it was. Maybe he'd ask, maybe he wouldn't.

When he was done, he put the system into sleep mode, and rested amongst all of the new information. He knew Gilbert would wake him up in the morning.

—

He did. At least Gilbert wasn't one of those people who mindlessly pressed keyboard keys or clicked a thousand times to wake the computer up. Were it a _good_ computer, he'd just be able to say, "Wake up" or tap the touch screen. Were it a _new_ computer, he'd actually be able to program the super cool, 3D hologram to respond when he walked in the room. Birdie allowed himself to daydream a little about having a hologram, but the dream vanished as soon as Gilbert typed in his offensive password. As if this user would ever help him out like that.

How was the update? Gilbert typed once Birdie allowed the computer to let him in. Birdie frowned. "You could have warned me how much stuff you had..."

Sorry Birdie… He opened up the note function and began typing in there. Birdie knew it would take up useful space, but he didn't protest, for now.

Do you have any plans today?

Ha. As if he could, even if he wanted to. "I'm an interface," he reminded Gilbert, who at least had the decency to look a little sheepish.

Right… Have any questions?

Ah. Here was an opportunity. He could ask and tease him about any number of sassy things, about his personal life, his _love_ life—but before he registered even choosing a question he asked, "Are your eyes actually red?"

Uhhh yes… why?

Birdie was quiet. In real life, he would have been blushing, but as it was he just didn't reply as quickly as he normally would. "Humans don't usually have red eyes. I, thought it was a glitch."

Nein. We also usually don't talk to our interfaces

Birdie knew that wasn't true, since the newer systems were almost all voice-activated. Less work for the humans, right? However, a user typing comments directly to the interface _was_ pretty unheard of.

"Not talking like this, anyway. You're the one who put me into this ancient computer instead of a voice-activated one."

You try to pay for the new computers.

"I'm an interface, Gilbert. Anyway, you could have at least gotten one with a microphone."

Here, the pale man looked as annoyed as ever. Of course he knew this already; he'd probably been beating himself up about it since yesterday.

Well I'd need to get the money to buy one, he typed. Birdie ran a background search on how much compatible desktop microphones cost. If he wanted one to match this dinosaur of a processor, it wasn't going to be cheap.

"Don't you have a job?" he asked, hopefully. Talking with a microphone would be a lot simpler than this. Admittedly… he also wanted to know what Gilbert's voice sounded like. It was only natural, he assured himself. Luckily, Gilbert was typing again—boy, he had a lot to say on this job-business. Birdie got the feeling he was playing defensive. He did seem like the kind of person who would get nagged a lot...

Yes and no. I got fired from my last one and usually get money from my brother. But I sometimes work at the bar. Or hack into systems for other companies. But that's just when I need the money…

"Sounds interesting," Birdie said politely. In truth, he was a little scared to learn that Gilbert hacked computers, but… _he_ was probably safe, right?

Ja it is, a bit.

"So you're a hacker, eh?" Birdie probed, trying to see if he needed to up his firewalls. The man at the keyboard looked completely offended. He typed NO really quickly.

 _He literally just said he was_ , the system thought. "Yes, you are. How do I know you won't hack me?"

He glared at the screen, typing furiously. I MADE YOU

He left his cursor blinking after the statement to emphasise it. When the interface didn't reply, he hit enter and started typing again.

Fuck you I'm leaving.

"I told you not to use that kind o—" Birdie felt everything spin as his power supply shut off. Gilbert must have—with nothing keeping him going, the screen went dark, he saw nothing and let himself and the computer lapse into powerlessness.

—

Gilbert woke him hours and hours later. His clocks told him it had been almost a full day, but that wasn't too bad for a computer. Some, he knew, were shut off for weeks at a time now, especially the older ones. Even so, he couldn't help but be irritated with Gilbert for doing that to him—it was horrible to go through, horrible to wake up from. He popped up an annoying dialogue box for Gilbert to look at.

"Birdie did not shutdown properly," he informed Gilbert using his monotonous voice. He still sounded cranky. If the pale man replied, he didn't know it since he couldn't see him yet. He allowed him to log in, even though he didn't want to.

Hallo, Birdie. How are you doing? Gilbert typed once he got his notes pulled up. He started a new one, instead of trying to find the one from yesterday. He seemed to be more cheerful today, but Birdie would have none of it.

"Quite fine, 'til you showed up." He was still reloading all the information that had been running when his rude user had pressed the power button. Not fun.

Well thank you for your daily dose of sass. Gilbert actually grinned a little, as if he were enjoying this. He probably was! The interface idly wondered if it would be possible to put himself up for sale on eBay or something… then again, who knows who he'd end up with then… Some creepy old guy, probably. He'd rather not.

"You are most welcome." Birdie deadpanned.

Wait a second… loading… loading… reload complete. By now, Birdie had saved as much data as he could from the shutdown, including… Gilbert's 'talking' note. Including the part at the end, in all caps: I MADE YOU.

 _He's my programmer, eh? That changes things._

What have you been doing while I was gone? Other than missing me. ;)

In fact, he hadn't been doing anything. That was the nature of _shut off,_ but he felt no need to explain to Gilbert. Missing him? How egotistic was the guy, anyway? He might have been his programmer, but... Birdie decided not to answer the question.

"You don't need the winky face; I can see your actual face perfectly fine."

Gilbert grinned. Do you like what you see~

"Are you _drunk_?"

He shook his head over-excitedly, like a little kid. Denial is the first step~, he typed. Birdie was not impressed.

"You are definitely intoxicated."

Nope~! he insisted, Haven't had anything~

Those squiggles were really getting on Birdie's nerves. Tildes, they were called, but he doubted Gilbert knew that. Or, if he did, he probably didn't remember while like this. "Stop talking like that," Birdie told him.

Nein~

He sighed. "I'll shut you out again." Somehow, the threat seemed thin, even to him. He wasn't sure why and pushed that part of his AI thought processing to the background. He focused on the words that appeared on the note, under all of Gilbert's squiggles:

You'd be bored without me.

 _Computers do not get bored,_ he thought—and almost immediately reconsidered. Bored is how humans feel when they don't have anything to do and wish they did, and... He couldn't do very much on his own. Gilbert was right.

He simply didn't say anything. But that didn't stop his user—he was beginning to believe that nothing would.

So Vogelchen~ what do you want to do today?

'Vogelchen?' he wondered. He ran a private search of the word to make sure it wasn't a slur; thankfully it wasn't.  
 _Vögelchen—German. Diminutive form of 'vogel', meaning bird. Birdie, little bird…_ that made sense.

"Are you German?" he asked. This is something he would know already if he could hear Gilbert speak...

Prussian, he corrected. Vhat do you want to do?

He still avoided the question. "Prussia isn't a country anymore. You realise it hasn't been on maps since 1871?"

Thank you background searches to make him look smarter than Gilbert. After all, he was an AI. He had unrestricted access to the internet, and he had to use it to keep up the appearance of knowing everything. Gilbert, however, did not seem to appreciate this. Birdie watched him stand and, without turning off the computer this time, leave the room. The door looked like it shut pretty hard and Birdie allowed himself a giggle. Even though he knew it was mean, he'd won, for now. "Would you like me to set up an appointment to take care of those anger management issues?" he called. He would apologise later.

—

Username: Gilbert Beilschmidt

Password: fuckyouBirdie~

Gilbert seemed happy when he logged on the next morning. How did you sleep Birdie? he asked. The AI considered sassing him, but decided to give him a break. Why ruin the good mood? He might be closer to saving up some money.

"Much better, thanks. And you?" Birdie added, purposely giving Gilbert an excuse to talk about himself. He took it.

I'm awesome (as always). West was annoying but I have a 'good job' now

"Do you now?"

Ja! Und I'm not a hacker!

"I wasn't going to ask."

Their conversations tended to be filled with banter, sass and occasional German (PRUSSIAN!) yelling, but as the weeks went by, the man and the AI did start to get along better. Birdie mentioned anger management less, and Gilbert tried not to shut the computer off by pressing the power button anymore. Once and awhile, Birdie would ask about his job, or how close he thought he was to being able to buy the microphone, but Gilbert never answered satisfactorily so the interface stopped asking.

—

Guess whaaat~ Gilbert logged on and asked at the beginning of a long weekend. After the first time with the tildes, he'd never really stopped using them. Mostly Birdie ignored it, since he wasn't sure what Gilbert's voice was supposed to sound like even without them. A few times he still tried… and failed… to imagine it.

"What." He was tired; Gilbert hadn't let him sleep much all week.

I got a microphone! he typed. Through the screen, Birdie could see him grinning like a madman. He looked like he was on the verge of adding about twenty exclamation points to that one. _Better reply quickly_ , Birdie thought. "Awesome!" he said, forcing a little enthusiasm. He really _was_ excited, he just also needed to restart.

I know right! Now you can hear my voice~ Gilbert was already moving around the desktop, looking for whatever installation jack would exist on a computer this old. He found it, and proceeded to do nothing about it, just held up the microphone to Birdie, still grinning.

"Just install it." the interface told him. He smirked.

Whatever you say~

He took the microphone out of its package and wired it in. Birdie displayed the settings screen so Gilbert could configure it into the system. It looked like the pale man was trying to be quiet, rather than muttering wordlessly to himself like he sometimes did, perhaps in order to surprise the interface…? Birdie wasn't sure.

"Well?" Birdie asked, when everything seemed to be in order. He still couldn't hear anything. Then—

"How do you like my awesome voice~"

Birdie, admittedly, freaked out. His witty remarks went out the window and Gilbert laughed, or, something. He was making very strange noises with his mouth, 'kesesesese'? The interface was offended when he figured out he was being laughed at.

"Oh, shut up!" he told his user, who smirked directly into the screen.

"Nein~"

"That's the dumbest laugh I've ever heard." He had to regain his composure somehow, right? Luckily, Gilbert stopped making whatever kind of laugh thing that was, but he kept that huge smirk across his face.

"So, if I save up enough money for a hologram, you'll have to decide vhat you vant to look like~" the human brought up. Well, that was a bit forward, wasn't it? The hologram projector was sure to cost a lot more than even the oldest of microphones, so it would probably be at least half a year until Birdie's appearance would be a problem...

"I, um— that'll probably be a long time, considering how long it took for you to get the microphone…" Did he even want an appearance? Being faceless meant that Gilbert couldn't tease him back when he made remarks about the pale man's face. Like how he'd denied that he stuck his tongue out a little when he was concentrating—that denial had lasted for at least two weeks. Good times.

"Don't vorry about sat!" Gilbert said brightly, "I'm pulling up an avatar maker so we can vork it out~" ...Guess he was getting an appearance after all.

"Now? And stop, doing that thing with your voice." It was the tildes all over again. It would never end, would it?

"Vhat thing~ I'm not doing anysing~ it must be a glitch~"

Birdie sighed. "Just boot up the avatar maker…"

"Vhatever you say~"

 _...He just typed that sentence,_ Birdie realised. _Exactly like that, right before he installed the mic. At least now I know how he's been talking to me the whole time…_

"Should I make se avatar or do you want to?" Gilbert cut in. He'd gotten the maker pulled up on screen without Birdie noticing, which concerned the interface. Faint music played from the program, repetitive and a little annoying but not bad. He remembered he was supposed to answer Gilbert's question.

"You can control it and I'll tell you what I want." he said. That was probably better than the user making fun of him for his choices.

"Bossy~" Gilbert drawled, "I like it." He winked at the screen and Birdie tried to ignore it.

He began learning how to navigate the maker; he seemed pretty familiar with it and it didn't take him long to figure everything out. Birdie attributed it to the fact that he was, after all, a programmer. He was probably pretty comfortable with most platforms of technology.

"So, skin colour? Height? Eye colour? Hair colour? Hair length? Et cetera. I can suggest some if you want~"

So many _choices_ … "Too many things at once, Gil. Um… Sure, suggestions would be good."

Gilbert paused, and, quickly after Birdie paused too. Not once had he called his user 'Gil'—always Gilbert, Beilschmidt, or both. Gilbert didn't seem to be reacting to it well, because he didn't make any comments with tildes on the end. He blinked out of his reverie and started customising the avatar: sex, body type, height, skin colour, hair, face, all in a row without a word. Birdie watched silently, the only noise the clicking of the keyboard keys and the accompanying music from the program. When Gilbert deemed it done, he sat back in his chair and put a smile on his face.

"So... any changes?" he asked, since Birdie hadn't actually helped at all. The interface wasn't sure what he even wanted to look like, though this body wasn't bad. "Mm…"

"Nothing? I could make you one of my friends~ or something else~~" he winked again, and Birdie was relieved that he seemed back to normal. Only someone like him would flirt with his own interface. Birdie took the chance to use his regular sass, to show he was back to normal too.

"Ah, of course. Program your own lover? Sounds perfect."

It was the wrong thing to say. The user looked away from the screen and laughed, but it sounded fake—even to Birdie, who'd only heard him laugh once or twice in his existence so far. To the wall Gilbert said, "Ja. Program your lover…" And that was that. He scooted back in the chair and got up, walked out, closed the door behind him. The repetitive avatar music was all Birdie had to keep him company for hours into the night.

—

It all made sense, of course. Upon closer inspection of the avatar, Birdie noticed it did look a little familiar—something he confirmed when he went back through Gilbert's files and found the picture of the blond boy again. There was no name attached, only dates, so Birdie didn't know who he was. A lover, perhaps, based on the context. He'd been meaning to ask Gilbert about the multitude of girlfriends and boyfriends he must have since he flirted so much, but it hadn't come up yet. Now he suspected it was good he hadn't asked.

Despite the avatar program running, the screen went dark after its usual twenty minutes. Birdie did Gilbert a favour by saving the avatar, just in case he wanted it. He might end up deleting it anyway, who knew. Humans were weird. After about an hour, when it seemed that Gilbert wasn't coming back, Birdie put the system into sleep. He hoped that his user hadn't done anything stupid, like killing himself. He could only hope…

—

The pale man came back in the middle of the night. He woke the computer, but acted as if he wanted to be alone. What he must not have known—or forgot, he looked intoxicated again—was that any time the screen was awake, Birdie was for sure. The interface lay low anyway, out of respect… he was the one who'd gotten Gilbert like this, after all.

Gilbert clicked through the files until he found the ones he was looking for; the ones of the blond boy, of course. He flipped through them one at a time, and then again, over and over. The tears got worse for every round. And Birdie couldn't stay silent anymore. He murmured to Gilbert, nonsense phrases of comfort (thank you background searches), soft words to make the crying stop. He didn't need to cry. Sure, he was egotistic, not terribly considerate and largely perverted, but he didn't deserve to be reduced to this. When Gilbert was ready, he mumbled something back about using Birdie as a replacement for Mattie—Mattie, Mattie, Mattie. Much of what he said was incomprehensible, but Birdie caught the name and the apologies. _It wasn't fair_ , he knew. _It wasn't fair at all._

But he began getting scared when Gilbert, slowly but surely, began closing each and every one of the programs that were running in the system. Birdie felt the avatar program go out, the notes they'd talked on, the alarm Gilbert had been using for months to wake him up in the morning for work—all gone. He opened his master code program and began typing a solitary line of code. He added another. By the third line Birdie knew exactly what he was going to do—after all, wiping the entire interface was a pretty specific code. He wasn't sure if Gilbert was listening, but he pleaded to him, softly. "Please, let me stay, Gil. Come on. Don't do it, I'll help you. I need you too. Please, don't…"

He was largely ignored up until the end. He raised his voice a notch and Gilbert's fingers stopped, froze, unsure of what to do. His face, Birdie could see, had tear tracks down it. He needed help.

"Don't do it, Gil. Please…"

He backspaced all of the code. Birdie sighed in relief as he closed the program, opting to fall asleep in front of the screen. Neither of them slept as well as they wanted.

—

This time, Birdie could hear the sighing and breathing even before Gilbert had logged on.

Username: Gilbert Beilschmidt

Password: fuckyoubirdie~

"Hey, Birdie," he greeted. He looked a little hollow, though he sounded fine. Birdie wasn't sure how to interpret that.

"Are you okay, Gil?"

He froze. At least his reaction for not knowing how to respond was consistent. He sat there for a moment, and then instead of saying anything he got up and looked for something in a bag across the room. Birdie hoped he wasn't just going to randomly go out again. Luckily, he found what he was looking for and sat back down in front of the desktop.

"I have a surprise~" he said, letting his voice waver at the end how he liked. Seemed like he was trying really hard to be normal. Good for him.

"Oh. What is it Gil?" Birdie cringed at the nickname, because he didn't mean to use it. He really didn't; he didn't want to set Gilbert off again. It just happened… but the pale man seemed unaffected. He held up a large box.

"I have a hologram."

He said it so calmly, Birdie didn't register it at first. He replayed the sentence in his processor. He'd done it? He had a hologram? But… he'd just gotten the microphone…?

"When did you have time to do that?" The interface asked, genuinely having no idea. Gilbert smiled.

"When I got the microphone! Do you want me to install it?"

Did he want that? Would… would Gilbert even be okay with it? He'd been so upset about the connections between Birdie and Mattie that the AI wasn't sure if he could handle it. But—as had happened with Gilbert before, Birdie didn't say what he intended to. Before he could voice any of his concerns, he simply said, "Yes!" Gilbert looked surprised.

"No sassy comebacks? Did you change overnight?"

 _You could say that._ However, Birdie was careful and just forced a giggle, softly saying, "Sure."

The man at the keyboard grinned and started unwrapping the box. He almost dropped it once, which Birdie fussed at him for but it was fine. He plugged it in and set it up, which took considerably longer than the microphone considering how OLD the dumb computer was. Birdie waited impatiently as Gilbert messed with the settings and tried to get it to connect.  
"I hope you like it~" He smiled, perhaps for the last time, directly into the screen. Then he set the holo-base on the floor and waited for Birdie's transfer to take place. He would still exist on the computer to run programs and such, but primarily he'd experience life from the base. He faded in slowly, his appearance that of the only one saved—Mattie.

"Gilbert! How much money did you spend on this?" Birdie asked, realising his new form was one of the best available. The original holograms were monochrome, projected from a specific point and often smaller than life. This one… full colour, full-sized, Birdie didn't know what to say. _How much money, even…?_

"Not enough to capture your beauty~"

With the hologram body in effect, Birdie's cheeks—he had cheeks now, wasn't that weird—reddened at Gilbert's blatant flirting.

"Shall I show you around~" the man proceeded. Of course Birdie had seen his apartment before, but only two dimensionally, only in the background behind Gilbert's face. And, to be sure... who would focus on the area behind Gilbert when the man himself was right in front of you?

Birdie nodded, and the base moved on silent wheels as he stepped forward. Gilbert moved too. The interface jumped a little when electricity was released from the man hugging him; he could feel it, sort of, as his new body simulated the touch. It wasn't perfect since he wasn't solid, but he loved it. Gilbert was warmer than a working desktop, and softer too. Static flew from Birdie's lips when Gil kissed him, and pulled back.

"I'm sorry you have to live with me," the man said quietly. _And I'm sorry I'm not Mattie_ , Birdie thought, but he didn't say that. His smile was instinctual and he took Gil's hand. It tingled.

"I think I've gotten used to it," he replied. Gilbert smiled gratefully at him.

They kissed again and when Birdie was ready he whispered, "I love you." It was so soft he wasn't even sure he heard himself, but he didn't mind. Maybe it seemed rushed, but it was clear that Gil loved him-or, he still loved Mattie and was willing to love Birdie too. Maybe he didn't love Gil yet, but he would.

He still saw Gilbert through gridded, hexagonal pixel eyes, and thought he was gorgeous. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the computer screen go dark, and just a moment later his vision did too. As Gilbert was holding him, they both shutdown to restart.

* * *

 **(Note: We will publish _something_ every four days. Once we have some more stories out, what we update will be decided by any reviews we get~! So let us know what you like and what you want more of, and we'll see what we can do.)**

 **AWESOME OUT!**


	6. The Fourth Life—Matthieu

**(Well. My stories are just longer than Gil's. I _might_ have had this out on time, if he wasn't being so distracting. Still, I did publish something, like I promised—check out our story New France if you haven't done so already! Neither of us own Hetalia... unfortunate for us.)**

 **(AU: Matthieu Williams is a college-level dance student in Canada, and his instructor is Gilbert.)**

* * *

Matthieu

He suspected his Papa has always wanted him to be a dancer. Papa was the one who enrolled him in community ballet as a little boy, gymnastics when he was older; Papa made sure he stayed strong and slim as he went through puberty. He learned, after the first few times, not to ask to try out for any tougher sport—hockey or American football would ruin his body with bruises, calluses and oversized muscles. When he was younger, he didn't mind as much. Surely his papa knew what he was doing? But as he got older, he grew tired of his father's restrictions _(all kids my age eat pizza, Papa... It's just one party—!)_. He'd gotten into college on a scholarship for athletics, heaven forbid he do anything except dance. The first year he spend 'learning' foundations—his teachers loved him because he already knew—and this year he was supposed to start classical. Another class, a new instructor, new moves, new music, the same old story as any other year so far and any year he could imagine. He was a beautiful and talented dancer, and everyone adored him.

Matthieu did not want to dance anymore.

—

He walked into his class early on the first day. He knew it made him look like that one stuck-up student, but some habits were hard to beat. Papa had taught him never to be late.

He saw someone's dance bag, probably his instructor's, but no one was there when he arrived. There wasn't a sound except his feet against the wooden floor. This studio seemed the same as the others... Its tall, wide mirrors stared at him, and the stereo sat in the corner with strategically placed speakers throughout the room. At least this time there were windows. He put his bag down by the empty wall and stood in wait.

In ones or twos, the other students came in. He saw that he'd had foundations with a few of them the previous year, where others looked older and had probably taken two or three years of courses already. Naturally, he would be in an advanced class. Just as Papa wanted.

The time to begin came and still no instructor arrived; Matthieu glanced around the studio with the others. He recognised Feliks, who was trying to chat with one of the older dancers, and Michelle, who was cheerful as ever. Michelle had been in classes with him before, though they weren't friends. Matthieu rarely spoke to people in the studio.

Just as everyone began wondering whether they were even in the right room, there came some scratching and bumping from outside the window. Matthieu didn't really care, but Feliks and a few others gathered round to see what was going on. They peered through the glass.

"There's like, totally someone out there!" Feliks called, and motioned for the others to come see. Even the older kids crowded around, and reluctantly Matthieu went too. _Might as well not miss out._

He for one thought it was probably a student. Just someone being silly, trying to escape from their newly-horrible class or something. Other theories spread between the dancers like whispered wildfires, growing stronger and louder and more insistent until Feliks did the one thing everyone agreed shouldn't be done—he opened the window. Group disapproval flew into the air.

"Alright, everyvone _move,_ please!" the voice outside the window demanded. Matthieu could see the top of someone's head and hands out there as they clung to the brick. Despite the lack of authority, the dancers parted, stepping back to allow the person to fall in. He did.

The newcomer stood slowly and took in each of the students surrounding him. His hands were red and scraped from hanging onto the building, but he didn't seem to care. To be honest, he was altogether kind of frightening—the injured hands, wide grin, bright red eyes and thin yet muscular stance made everyone remember that he could actually be harmful. At least Feliks looked like he regretted opening the window.

The strange man glanced over everyone again, winked in Matthieu's direction for no reason and said, "Velcome to classical dance. I'm your teacher~ Thanks for not locking me out!"

It was one of the older kids who asked, "Are you kidding?"

—

...He 'totally wasn't kidding'. Feliks and his new group began complaining about their mad instructor—who would only introduce himself as Mr Awesome—as soon as that first class ended. Nobody took him seriously, some even going so far as to say that he didn't even know how to dance. It was true that he hadn't proven himself yet…

But Matthieu loved it. He wasn't sure that he could stand another year of etiquette and routines, so 'Mr Awesome' (or 'Gilbert Beilschmidt', according to this year's staff directory) could end up being the perfect thing for him. Even if everyone else ended up hating his guts.

—

They had class Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Gilbert—this was what Matthieu had taken to calling the instructor in his head, since he doubted he could pronounce Beilschmidt correctly and 'Mr Awesome' was just ridiculous—he had warned them early on that emergency practise could be scheduled at any time for Saturdays, if he deemed they needed it. It hadn't happened yet, but the students were wary of his extremely unorthodox, impulsive teaching style already, despite it having been only a week.

On their fourth day of class, Gilbert invited them in with very cheery German as he sat in the middle of the floor. He hadn't climbed through the window since the first time, to the relief of most of the class, but that didn't stop him from trying to climb up the corner wall in the studio on Friday morning. Someone told him he wasn't Spider-Man, to which he just laughed and winked, replying, "How do you know?". He jumped down and landed less gracefully than he probably wanted to, causing giggles from Feliks as he walked into class. He glared at the Polish boy.

Today though, he seemed even more pepped up than last week. Matthieu found this both exciting and a little disconcerting, but he was willing to see what would happen. Not everyone was so compliant.

Michelle was absent, but once everyone else was there Gilbert stood to begin class. He gathered the dancers along the far wall, forced them for a while to stare at themselves in the mirror. Matthieu could see people's expressions twist as they acknowledged their own reflections, and he wondered if Gilbert could see it too. Everyone had things they didn't like about their bodies, and when they were in something as physical as dance… he saw a girl who went by Kat pulling on her tight shirt, trying to make it fit better on her chest. A small girl Matthieu didn't know stood on her tiptoes to appear taller, and Matthieu himself sucked in his stomach on instinct. Sure, he was slim, but he thought he still looked bigger than necessary. It wasn't a big deal; he'd been doing this for years.

"Today ve are doing solo dances," Gilbert announced, giving the dancers an excuse to turn away from themselves. "I vant to see vhat you can do. Everyvone vill go today! No exceptions~" he smirked at his class. Some people looked nervous; Feliks shared a look with the girl next to him. Matthieu but he didn't bat an eye. He might not like what he looked like, but he knew he was good. All he had to do was wait.

One of Feliks' friends went first. She pulled the music up on her phone and handed it to Gilbert to start. Matthieu did pay attention, but after so many years of moving his body and watching other people move theirs, these mini dances were hard to invest a lot of interest in. Most of the soloists were good—a little shaky in the beginning, it'd been awhile since they'd practised that routine but nobody failed. Matthieu stepped up right after Kat. He gave her a slight, reassuring smile since she looked worried and out of breath, and she smiled back gratefully. Matthieu cleared his mind. There was no doubt that he could do this.

The routine he chose was a short one he'd learned at the end of high school. It played off his flexibility and made him look faster than he really was. He was conscious of every tiny misstep, every error in timing had him cursing himself for not performing better, because he _knew_ how to do it—

Overall, he felt he did pretty well. Better than some.

Two people danced after him and by then everyone had gone. Instead of lecturing his class about technique or emotion, Gilbert kept to himself, writing notes or something that none of them could see. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to say anything, the dancers talked amongst themselves and packed up, waiting for class to end. Matthieu said nothing.

"Hey, class is totally over. Can we like, go?" Feliks asked loudly, when the correct time had passed and Gilbert did nothing about it. The instructor nodded. "Ja, go. See you on Vednesday." With that, most of the students up and left.

"Oh, Matthieu!" Matthieu heard his name being called behind him. He turned to see an eager Katushka, holding her bag and smiling brightly.

"You did so well! I have never seen anyone dance like you before! I—" she blushed, realised she was babbling and stopped. He put on a kind, polite face.

"You did very well, too," he told her. He did mean it, but she shook her head.

"Nyet, I am afraid I am never very good at the gymnastics. Nevermind. I look forward to seeing you perform again!" She gave him a final look of admiration before leaving class, humming the music to someone's solo under her breath. Matthieu watched her go.

Performance. It was always about performance, wasn't it? Nobody talked to him because they thought he was clever or interesting—only to congratulate him on how much of an amazing dancer he was, how splendid, how flexible, how perfect. Or the flipside: _Your stance needs work, Matthieu. Oh, that was really off. Do it_ _this_ _way. Tuck in your stomach and remember to put emotions on your face, oui, cher?_

He packed up his things slowly and mechanically, until he was the only one in the studio besides Gilbert. The instructor was still sitting, pondering his notes.

"Mattzieu?"

Poised, Matthieu gave his attention to the teacher. He was expecting the same sort of thing he'd received from Katushka, no matter how unorthodox this teacher was. His oh-so-appreciative audience was always the same.

"Are you okay?" Gilbert asked instead.

 _What?_ "Why?" Matthieu asked. His teacher looked up at him from the floor and stood. He put his notes next to him and came a little closer; Matthieu was confused, but not nervous. _What does he mean, am I okay?_

"You're a very good dancer," Gilbert said, and the blond almost stopped listening, "but you don't seem like you're happy..."

Matthieu sighed. "Is this because I'm quiet?" he asked. He tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, but he could hear that it didn't work. Oops.

"Nein," Gilbert told him firmly. "Just because you don't talk to people doesn't mean you're depressed. But, sey mostly shut you out… und you let sem…"

"They don't shut me out. I don't talk to them because I don't care. They only like my dancing," Matthieu added, accidentally. He knew it was true, but he didn't mean to tell his teacher… and, just as he'd predicted, Gilbert's face fell.

"Just because sey talk to you because of your dancing doesn't mean sat sey don't vant to talk to you about other things!"

Of course. Matthieu had been told that before too, but he'd never met a dancer who didn't want to talk about dance, whether they were praising him or not.

"But I don't—nevermind. I should go." The blond shook his head, and readjusted the grip on his bag to add to his statement. Gilbert frowned.

"Ve could get a drink sometime," the instructor suggested casually. Matthieu turned back to him.

"W-what?"

"You're nineteen, right? Ja. Ve should go out for drinks."

The dancer stared at him, trying to keep his face blank. It didn't seem to faze Gilbert at all.

"I'll be vaiting at se pub right outside school, Saturday at six." With that, Gilbert got up, collected his notes and left. And for the first time in a while… Matthieu felt unsure of himself.

—

It wasn't as if the dancer never went out. He and his (non-dance) friends, Carlos and Lars, liked to go to smaller parties or just stay in and play games—videogames usually. But… well, it was true that Matthieu very rarely went out by himself. He wasn't any more interested in dating than he was in making friends, an attitude that apparently concerned his instructor.

Oh… _this_ wasn't a date, was it?

He adjusted his loose shirt awkwardly as he made his way down to the pub. Neither the instructor nor the dancer had mentioned the proposed drinks on Wednesday or Friday, so Matthieu didn't even know if it was still on. As he walked, he saw the pub around the corner; its business made up almost entirely of student customers, since it sat so absurdly close to the school. Matthieu wondered if Gilbert had been down here a lot, with or without guests.

With or without _dates_?

Ugh. Why was he nervous, anyway? Matthieu Williams didn't _get_ nervous anymore.

"Heyy!"

He saw his instructor—no, just 'Gilbert' off campus—waiting by the door, just as he said he'd be. Matthieu allowed himself a slight smile as he imagined the German trying to climb through one of the bar windows, instead of using the door. Gilbert evidently noticed.

"Happy to see me?" he asked, referring to the smile. Matthieu felt himself relax a little. Light teasing? That was something he knew how to handle (thank you Carlos). He let his smile widen.

"You wish." He smirked a little.

At first, Gilbert looked surprised at the quick response, but he soon grinned and led Matthieu into the bar. He ordered beers for both of them—German ones—and sat down, pulling a chair for the younger of the two. Matthieu briefly wondered again whether Gilbert considered this a date.

"So?" The pale man asked when their drinks arrived, "How'd you end up here?"

Oh, if they were going to hang out, Gilbert was going to have to learn not to ask such open questions. Matthieu's wit had often got the best of Carlos, and Lars for that matter. He rested his arms on the bartop. "You invited me," he told Gilbert, who actually—blushed a little?

"Not vhat I meant," the German deadpanned. "Se dance program. Vhy are you in it?"

Ha. That was a good one.

"You know those snotty kids whose parents put them into dance class when they turn three or so?"

Gilbert nodded. Matthieu pointed to himself.  
"My papa wanted cute dance pictures. And then beautiful ones. He wouldn't let me do anything else, I couldn't bring myself to quit… things escalated. _Voilà,_ here I am _."_ He let himself consider Gilbert's eyes— they were actually quite pretty. Then again, as an artist he was used to appreciating people visually. He brushed it away. "What about you?" he asked.

Gilbert's grin was huge. Apparently, there was a story here.

They talked much longer than Matthieu had talked with anyone in a while. Gilbert told brilliant stories and Matthieu quipped him into silence multiple times. Despite the elder being German—well, Prussian, as the dancer learned—and having a reputation with beer, he made sure to resemble a responsible human being and not let Matthieu actually get drunk. Which Matthieu was grateful for. But he also wondered… what if…

Anyway, he thanked Gilbert for inviting him along and did let Prussian walk back to the dorm with him. For safety reasons. Walking alone at night on any college campus wasn't a _great_ idea… Even so, the student volunteer at the dorm building desk whistled when he saw the two walk in together, until he realised one of them was a teacher and then awkwardly pretended he hadn't done it.

"Gute Nacht, Kanada," Gilbert said softly. Matthieu turned to him. "Hm…?"

"'Kanada'. It's se German version of Canada, und it fits you."

"...Um? Yes, I'm from Canada, but we're _in Canada_. Everyone is from here."

"Vould you rather I called you 'Mattzieu'?"

Something in the way he said it made the dancer shiver, even though that _was_ his given name. He nodded in the dark. "See you on Monday," he whispered, and he saw Gilbert grin.

"See you sen." He disappeared out the door, to wherever teachers go at night. Matthieu sighed.

The guy at the desk poked the dancer suggestively about him and Gilbert, to which Matthieu simply rolled his eyes and went upstairs. Luckily, his roommate was busy texting. He had the whole weekend to think about Gilbert… though he should probably also start those essays for English. Hm.

—

On Monday, Gilbert greeted everyone from behind the stereo. It sounded like he was trying to project his voice, but it wasn't really working. Still, he greeted everyone; Matthieu was relieved that he would still be treated the same even after Saturday. Not that he didn't welcome change, but… class dynamics could become nasty when the teacher became someone's buddy.

After their solo dances last week, Gilbert had put them into groups of threes or fours to work on small group cooperation. Matthieu set his bag down and joined his peers, who were busy talking amongst themselves. Soon, everyone quieted down as Gilbert made sure they all got a good workout.

—

"Oi!"

Matthieu whirled around from the desk in his room to the doorway. The voice he heard wasn't his roommate, nor any of the roommate's recognisable friends. Not Lars, not Carlos. Definitely not a girl… And not a voice that he should hear on a Thursday night.

"Gilbert?"

"Ja!" the Prussian exclaimed, coming over and leaning over Matthieu's shoulder. "I vanted to see how you vere doing!"

"Ah… I'm fine," the dancer said. He took his hands off the keyboard—no way he could work with someone as energetic as _him_ here... He shifted in his chair to fully face the Prussian man.

"Did you, need something?" he asked, thankful his roommate actually had a life and wasn't here to witness. The instructor grinned.

"Nein! Vell, I need to get dinner und you should come vith me. You look like you need a break," Gilbert added, grimacing at the complex words on the laptop screen. Matthieu frowned. He'd been thinking the same thing, but…

Reluctantly, he shut his laptop and and got up, pushing his chair in behind him. He couldn't help but smile when Gilbert practically cheered. Damn, the man was easy to please when he wasn't in the studio…

Right, because he was a teacher, not a friend. He probably just wanted to ensure Matthieu was talking to people. However, if the gossip stayed low, which it wouldn't… he'd like to have Gilbert as a friend. Or something.

"Where are we going?" he asked, mostly to distract himself from those thoughts. He grabbed his coat and keys and followed the older man out.

"No vhere on campus. Sere's sis place, pretty close by. You'll see." He refused to say anything else.

Yes, follow a stranger off campus to an unknown place of his choosing, for 'dinner'? Matthieu inwardly laughed at himself. What a thing to do… but Gilbert was no stranger, though he was strange. Perhaps… well, no use denying it. Matthieu was interested in him, even if he wasn't sure exactly how.

—

The little Italian place down the road was cute. It was small enough that Gilbert was greeted by the owner, an equally small and bubbly man who seemed to know him well. He then greeted Matthieu enthusiastically, and took to calling him 'Matteo' when Gilbert introduced him—something Matthieu didn't mind as much as he thought he might. The owner, Feli, gave them a table personally before scuttering back to the kitchens. A few moments later, both men heard loud Italian yelling from back there; Gilbert burst out laughing.

"It's Lovino," he explained between giggles, "F-Feli's bruder. He hates everyone! Especially me and mein bruder~ So he's probably pissed about Feli letting us in!" He dissolved into laughter again. Matthieu smiled, genuinely.

"You're cute when you're happy," he told the Prussian, which sobered him up real quick. The laughter stopped; his cheeks and the tips of his ears turned a delicate pink the dancer had never seen on him before. In Matthieu's opinion, it only made him cuter... Aesthetically, of course.

"Shut up," Gilbert mumbled, and now it was the dancer's turn to laugh. "Oh, you actually do have a weakness? I was beginning to wonder," he smiled. Gilbert blushed more. Eventually, he was saved by Feliciano, who brought drinks and food and still looked perfectly happy despite the yelling. In fact, he commented on Gilbert's warm colour and started telling a jumbled story, about his brother and tomatoes…? This caused said brother to come out of the kitchen himself and drag Feli back in. With much more angry Italian, then Canadian and Prussian giggles out of the way, the two at the table were left alone again.

"I'm glad you came vith me."

"Me, too."

"Sis could be a regular thing! You could get to know Feli und Vest, und vhen Antonio comes ve can annoy Lovino, und—"

"Gilbert?"

"Ja?"

Matthieu paused. "I… I'm not sure if we should keep…" he trailed off. He wasn't sure how to put it—in fact, he wasn't sure about a lot of things concerning Gilbert. He was still Matthieu Williams, of course; the confident, the certain, the flawless, only… Gilbert was a question he didn't know how to answer. For now, he decided on a social stance. "The others will talk. You know how they are."

Now it was Gilbert's turn to frown, and Matthieu decided he didn't like it. The man looked so much younger and less tragic when he was laughing... The dancer shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked away, waiting for his reply.

"I thought you didn't care vhat sey thought," Gilbert said. He sounded almost, disappointed? Matthieu felt a little ashamed accordingly and then wondered why he did.

"No, I don't—" _How to explain this…_ "I don't care what they think, as long as they know I'm the best."

There. He'd said it. He sat in silence and just _knew_ that his instructor was going to try to play therapist again; how could such a friendly dinner get so messed up?

"It was probably Papa," he mumbled, since Gilbert wasn't saying anything. "I've always had to be the best for him, and…"

"Okay." He looked up at the interruption. Gilbert had a strange expression across his face, one he didn't know how to react to. Matthieu tried to look away again, but found that he couldn't. "What?"

"I said 'okay'. Mattzieu..." The name seemed to mean more to him than just a name, "Mattzieu. Sat's okay. Everyvone has to be se best for somevone. For me, it's mein bruder... Even though I doubt he looks up to me anymore," the instructor's face turned sour. Matthieu felt his negativity melting into sympathy, empathy between Gilbert and himself. He was lucky, wasn't he.

"I'm sure he does more than you think," the dancer assured him, and Gilbert softened too. "Danke," he said.

They ate their food quietly and didn't speak for the rest of the meal, except when Feli came to check on them. Gilbert refused to let Matthieu pay his part of the bill, which the dancer protested until he could see it was absolutely no use. He thanked him, resignedly.

"Maybe… how about we don't see each other outside of class for a while, see how that goes? A-and if it's terrible we can stop," Matthieu suggested, as they put back on their coats and walked outside. Gilbert shrugged noncommittally. "Okay, birdie."

' _Birdie'? That was a new one._  
"You have some strange nicknames," he told the instructor. When he turned to face him, Gilbert was grinning.

"You're a strange person!"

"Stranger than you?"

"Oi! I am AWESOME!"

Matthieu was relieved that their goodbye contained more giggles rather than sighs.

—

For a while, school passed without much incident. Matthieu turned in his English papers and received more assignments. History was cool, maths were boring. In dance, they finished small groups and performed in their first school showcase of the year. Gilbert had them work on technical, classical skills for what felt like _ages_ before he finally introduced the next unit: partner dances.

This was, for the most part, what the dancers expected out of the class. Gilbert told them that they'd be doing partner dances for the rest of the year, with exceptions for the showcases where group dances worked better. He let everyone choose the person they wanted to dance with for now—Feliks picked the small girl, Lili, Michelle chose Xiao Mei. Kat glanced around for a while and gravitated toward Matthieu when she saw he didn't have anyone either.

"Hi," she said, sounding a little nervous. "I have not done the dances like this before…"

"It's okay. I'm sure Gilbert will teach us," Matthieu assured her. She took his hand gently and waited for instructions.

Soon, everyone had a partner (Gilbert looked pleased with having an even number) and the instructor lined them all up and stood in front of them.

"Awesome. So, partner dances~ I'm supposed to teach you se "lady's part" und se "gentleman's part" but sat's dumb und outdated, und conservative. So you'll be learning leading und following instead! Because even se awesome me can't change se structure of se dances. You each will learn both parts by se end of se year. But for now, who leads und who follows is up to you~!"

He then asked the students to name traditional partner dances they already knew about, or possibly knew how to do, and then went through brief histories of each which seemed to surprise everyone. _What? Mr Awesome actually knows relevant things?_

Waltz, tango, foxtrot, Viennese waltz (which Gilbert pulled a face about, for some reason).

They didn't have time to start that day, but Gilbert promised they would, come Wednesday.

—

So they did. He chose the waltz first (not the Viennese one) and did a demo—by himself, Matthieu might add, which made him look incredibly lonely. But he got everyone doing the steps with their partners, practicing the timing of switching hands and spins, and trying not to bump into any other dancers. Matthieu took to it easily, though Katushka kept apologising whenever she messed up. She let him lead, and got the gist of her part soon enough...

And on Friday, she wasn't even there to practise. Everyone else had their partner, so Gilbert told Matthieu to dance alone—which was exactly as lonely as it looked, he discovered. The instructor walked around the room, inspecting the other couples' stances and correcting steps when need be. Matthieu found it hard to visualise where his hands were supposed to be and such when he only had air to work with… of course, he would manage. Somehow, he'd even come out above the others. He closed his eyes to focus.

One, two three, one, two three. He knew where he was in the studio; no one else wanted to be so close to the speaker. One, two three. He stepped forward, to the right, forward, to the left. He let go of Katushka's imaginary hand to let her spin—and he felt warmth right when she would have come back to him. He opened his eyes in surprise, and would have missed the next step if _Gilbert_ hadn't coaxed him into it. Gilbert's hand in his, and on his shoulder. Gilbert standing close enough to him to share heat. He smiled; he wasn't lonely, after all.

The instructor let him lead, and for the first time in a long time Matthieu didn't feel confident in his next step. His heart sped up even though he wasn't working any harder. Gilbert flashed him a grin and electricity thrilled his body. Was this what dance was supposed to be like? One, two three, one, two three—Gilbert spun and suddenly Matthieu felt the instructor's hand switch from the top of his shoulder to the back of it. Switching roles? He could handle it. He began stepping backwards as Gilbert led, still in time, still on point. The transition was basically flawless, and Matthieu could feel the eyes of at least one couple who'd stopped to watch. He found, though, that he wasn't nervous about them, not this time. Today, he wanted to impress Gilbert. Even if people would talk.

Gilbert stepped forward, Matthieu stepped back. One, two three. Back and forth, side to side, around in circles on their side of the room. The class was watching, but he didn't care. On the last count, Gilbert let his partner spin, and Matthieu executed it perfectly. The music faded out as he came back. He smiled.

"Class dismissed," Gilbert called, letting go of Matthieu's hand to stop the stereo from playing the song again. It was, in reality, a few minutes before class officially got out, but no one was going to argue. One of the girls wolf-whistled as Matthieu just stood there, waiting instead of packing up his things. They left the studio laughing.

"Um…" the dancer began, but Gilbert took his hand again and started going through the steps again, slowly. No music. Matthieu followed along.

The pale man seemed reluctant to talk at first, but after a few circles around he'd evidently decided to say whatever he was going to. He took a deep breath.

"I missed you," he murmured. "I liked it vhen I could see you outside of here."

"I—" Matthieu began, but he was cut off by the Prussian. "Nein. Shh…"

Matthieu closed his mouth.

"I thought about it a lot, ja? So don't say I don't know vhat I'm doing." He spoke in time with their steps. Dancer's habit, Matthieu knew.

"I know sey talk to you because of your performances, but I vould talk to you about anysing. I love being vith you. I—Ich liebe Dich." And then, softer, "I love you."

Matthieu would have thought that a statement like that would made him unable to breathe. That he'd be shaky, or blushy, or anything except his calm self. Maybe he'd even be angry, but… he was none of these things. Instead, he felt his chest fill with warmth and when he looked at Gilbert, he knew it wasn't aesthetic attraction he was seeing. He didn't think about his words, even as he said them.

"I love you, too."

Gilbert looked taken aback, but suddenly it didn't matter that he was five years older or that people would talk. Matthieu leaned in and kissed him, sweetly, warmly, then deeply, and they melted together into darkness.

* * *

 **Hallo vorld, it's Mr Awesome**

 **Bitte review for us~ we have an idea for the next AU, but if you have any that would be amazing**

 **Danke~~**

 **See you next time,**

 **Auf wiedersehen.**


	7. The Fourth Life—Gilbert

**(This is so overdue, I'm so sorry...! Gil didn't write it and then I didn't edit it and then time existed and yeah. Sorry. For the record, we have both of our fifth life stories [that'll be chapters 8 and 9] started, but not finished, so I'm not sure when they'll be out... but hey! We haven't broken our publication promise yet: we publish one thing every four days. So maybe check out some of our other stuff and find something else you like! And we'll see what happens.  
And if you really want this to continue, send us a review saying so. I'm really not sure what we'll spend our time on this summer so it'd be good to know what you guys think.)**

 **(On with the show! It's fanfiction, we don't own it. Hope you have fun anyway.)**

 **(AU: Matthieu Williams is a college-level dance student in Canada, and his instructor is Gilbert.)**

* * *

Gilbert sighed. Although he liked his job, he didn't think it paid nearly enough for his troubles. Sure, he was just out of college and worked for a different college. He had been immediately hired as the new classical dance teacher here. His brother was a P.E. teacher at the same college, so he wasn't that far away from his family. Even so, he hadn't had very much fun so far. Though he did love scaring his students on the first day of class.

His brother drove them to the campus, because even after all these years, Vest would never trust Gilbert Beilschmidt to drive a car. As he got out of the car he took his stuff to the dance room. He set it all down near the stereo and checked the time… Twenty minutes before his class started. He played on his phone for almost half of that before following his usual plan, and walking towards one of the windows. He looked outside and smirked as he opened the window and jumped out, closing it behind him. He glanced back and saw one of his students walk in. He had looked up all the students in his class online to see who they were, but the one who came in was the one he hadn't been able to find. No social media for this kid, so he knew this must have been Matthieu Williams. As the blond boy took in the space, Gilbert took a liking to him and walked out towards the cafeteria to get a snack.

—

Gilbert started running. No, he wasn't late… Well, he was just a _bit_ late. But that wasn't the reason he was running. He needed to get a high enough jump to grip onto the window sill and climb into the classroom. Hopefully someone would open the window for him. He jumped and was just short of the window but he was able to hold on and start climbing. As he near the window he knocked on it a few times and saw a lot more students inside, talking amongst themselves near the window. He banged his fist against the window again and a Polish boy (Feliks L-however-you-pronounce-that, he was popular online) came and finally opened it. He stepped back.

Gilbert rolled in and stood up. He looked around for Matthieu and winked at him; an inside joke that only one of them knew.

"Velcome to classical dance. I'm your teacher~ thanks for not locking me out!"

He ignored the stares as he walked towards the stereo, putting all of his extra snacks and such in his bag and turning towards the class.

"So, I'm your new teacher. You can call me Mr Awesome. I know all of your names, et cetera because of class registration, so we aren't going to do any of the pansy intro shit like that. Und if you don't know someone's name, just ask."

"And, like, what's your actual name?"

"Mr Awesome, or just Awesome."

"But on the schedule it says your name is Gilbert Be—Beel—Bil…"

"Beilschmidt. Prussian. 25, Danke I know who I am."

Gilbert heard whispers go around the room about his age and name. He looked towards Matthieu and smiled. Maybe they could take this week off and start the actual learning the next week—seeing as he only had three classes a week with them. He explained the dates of the class and noted how he had the awesome power to schedule practise on Saturday if he wanted to.

Eventually he dismissed the class. He watched Matthieu leave, specifically. After all, a kid with no online history was an enigma indeed. It seemed he didn't socialise much and the other students didn't pay close attention to him. He frowned at the non-social interaction and turned back to his things.

—

Since Gilbert didn't do anything important that week (save Friday when he climbed the walls), he decided he should do something productive for the next week.

As he waited for class to start, he saw Matthieu hovering uncertainly outside the door. He watched him and got an idea. He stood up and went to unlock the door when most of the kids had arrived.

"Hallo! Put your bags down und face se mirrors bitte… Please." He added the English translation despite his warning of speaking random Prussian in class.

Gilbert looked around, watching for the students to prove his point, even if they didn't know what it was yet. He looked at Matthieu and saw him sucking his stomach in. He saw others and noted each of their insecurities. Too fat, too short, too clumsy. These kids were so fragile these days—whose fault was that?  
Someone had to boost their egos, but first they needed to be benchmarked. Gilbert pushed all that deep insecure thought shit away and announced, "Today ve are doing solo dances, I vant to see vhat you can do. Everyvone vill go today! No exceptions~" Gilbert smirked at his class and waited for the first one to step up.

Feliks handed him his phone with music and Gilbert hooked it up to the speaker and sat down on the chair next to it. He took his notes out and watched the dances. Frankly, most were sloppy and not well-rehearsed, since the kids most likely hadn't danced much since classes last year or over the summer. Gilbert wrote down his notes in German since it was easier to him—and it was funny to see the sneaky kids try to read the reflection in the mirror, only to discover they couldn't. As Matthieu stepped up Gilbert grinned and watched intently as the blond's dancing started. As the music went on, Gilbert noticed that even though most of Matthieu's moves were correct, his face told him a different story. His expression was sad. Downcast. Scorning himself when he missed a step or a beat. It was as if Matthieu wasn't dancing with his heart, just his body.

The music slowed and Gilbert wrote down his notes. He heard one of the kids asking if they could leave and he looked up from his notebook and replied, "Ja, go. See you on Vednesday."

He saw from the corner of his eyes the students leaving. He saw Matthieu talking to Katushka, or rather, Katushka talking to him. She was gushing over him, but Matthieu froze after she left; he turned around with a face of calm and collected rage. As a friend, the Prussian could let it go or poke fun. But as a teacher Gilbert knew he needed to do something.

"Mattzieu?" Gilbert called. He looked towards the boy and as Matthieu turned towards him, Gilbert asked "Are you okay?"

"Why?" Matthieu replied warily. Gilbert stood and put his notes down walking closer to the young dancer.

"You're a very good dancer," Gilbert watched as Matthieu's face began to screw up and he knew he'd said the wrong thing. He tried to fix it. "But, you don't seem like you're happy..."

Matthieu sighed."Is this because I'm quiet?" The irritation in his voice was painfully obvious.

"Nein. Just because you don't talk to people doesn't mean you're depressed. But, sey mostly shut you out… und you let sem…" Gilbert trailed off, remembering the times when his two best friends had shut him out when he was depressed. Sure, at first they asked and wondered, but when Gilbert told them they closed him off completely. He didn't want that or anything close to that to happen to Matthieu.

"They don't shut me out. I don't talk to them because I don't care. They only like my dancing," Gilbert sighed and looked down—he glanced back up to Matthieu and insisted:

"Just because sey talk to you because of your dancing doesn't mean sat sey don't vant to talk to you about other things!" _I vant to talk to you about other things, Mattzieu, if you would let me..._

"But I don't—nevermind. I should go." Gilbert frowned; Matthieu turned away from him. _I just can't let him leave!_

"Ve could get a drink sometime."

"W-what?"

"You're nineteen, right? Ja. Ve should go out for drinks."

Gilbert watched Matthieu's face of confusion and declared, "I'll be vaiting at se pub right outside school, Saturday at six." With that, Gilbert got up, collected his notes and left.

—

Gilbert was actually waiting outside the bar at five thirty. He saw Matthieu arrive and grinned.

Matthieu smiled too as he walked up. It looked good on him.

"Hey!" the dancer called to him.

"Happy to see me?" he asked. Matthieu smiled wider.

"You wish."

Gilbert froze for a second at Matthieu's smirk. _Gods, I vant to kiss those lips—!_ Gilbert pushed away the thought and brought both of them inside.

He knew the bartender and he brought two German beers for them. As they sat down, Gilbert pulled out the chair for Matthieu and let him sit, pushing the chair in.

"So? How'd you end up here?" Gilbert smirked, sipping on his beer.

"You invited me," was the sassy reply he got. Gilbert wanted to hit himself on the head.

"Not vhat I meant. Se dance program. Vhy are you in it?" the Prussian repeated.

"You know those snotty kids whose parents put them into dance class when they turn three or so?" Gilbert nodded. Matthieu pointed to himself.

"My papa wanted cute dance pictures. And then beautiful ones. He wouldn't let me do anything else, I couldn't bring myself to quit… things escalated. _Voilà_ , here I am."

Gilbert saddened. _Was it really such an uncommon story?_

"What about you?" _Oh, that was a good one._ Gilbert let himself brighten up and he grinned.

"Veelll~" Gilbert started his story about his brother and his classes. How he got here. His heritage. By the end of the night Gilbert had practically told Matthieu his life story. With only a couple beers later (Gilbert decided to be safe in case something happened) Gilbert brought Matthieu to his dorm to sleep and definitely not to spend more time with him.

The dancer thanked him before they left the bar and Gilbert grinned as they walked back into the dorm building. He ignored the wolf-whistle, but sent the desk clerk who'd made it a hard glare.

"Gute Nacht, Kanada," Gilbert said quietly. He didn't think Matthieu would hear him, but he did and turned towards the teacher.

"Hm…?"

"'Kanada'. It's se German version of Canada, und it fits you."

"...Um? Yes, I'm from Canada, but we're in Canada. Everyone is from here."

"Vould you rather I called you ' _Mattzieu_ '?" Gilbert smirked as he saw Matthieu nod.

"See you on Monday," the blond said quietly. Gilbert grinned again.

"See you sen." He walked out and closed the doors, and sighed.

 _Damn it, vhy did I have to fall so hard for him?_

Gilbert walked back to his motorcycle, aka, the only vehicle Luddy would let him drive alone as long as he wore his helmet. He lived off-campus. He drove back towards his house, lonelier than before.

—

Gilbert sat in the studio behind the stereo, trying to fix the damn thing. Sure, he was a dancer but his dad and Vest had always been good with electronics, so Gilbert knew a thing or two about fixing things. As he finally was able to get it to work, his class had arrived. Gilbert stood up and smiled at Matthieu.

He started the class and gave them a workout. One of Luddy's simplified ones that Gilbert modified for dancing. He taught some dips and twirls. A simple day.

—

Gilbert thought it was important to mention that he was _not_ a stalker; it was only ever perceived that he was. He found out from another student—casually—the number of the exact room where Matthieu stayed and came to look for him on Thursday night. The door was unlocked. He stood in the doorway of his dancer's room.

"Oi!" he called.

He watched as the blond whirled around in surprise.

"Gilbert?"

"Ja!" Gilbert walked over to Matthieu, sneaking a look at his desk and his computer. "I vanted to see how you vere doing!"

"Ah… I'm fine," Matthieu shifted in his seat.

"Did you, need something?" the blond asked. Gilbert grinned.

"Nein! Vell, I need to get dinner und you should come vith me. You look like you need a break," Gilbert glanced at the Word document on the screen and grimaced.

Relenting, Matthieu stood up from his seat and Gilbert cheered. He saw a look cross Matthieu's face and Gilbert sighed internally. Matthieu still thought of Gilbert as a friend… _vell, sat vas a step up from 'teacher'_.

"Where are we going?"

Gilbert looked up.

"No vhere on campus. Sere's sis place, pretty close by. You'll see."

Gilbert lead Matthieu to the little Italian place run by his friend Feli and Feli's brother. Luddy loved to go there since he was dating the friendlier Italian.

—

As Gilbert walked inside, Feliciano greeted the two of them. Gilbert introduced Matthieu to Feli, who quickly decided to call him Matteo. Feli sat them down and went to the back. He could hear Lovino getting all pissed at Feli. He started to laugh and Matthieu looked at him strangely and glanced back to the kitchens. Gilbert laughed more and started to explain through his giggles, "It's Lovino, F-Feli's bruder. He hates everyone! Especially me and mein bruder~ So he's probably pissed about Feli letting us in!"

He laughed again and saw Matthieu smile.

"You're cute when you're happy,"Matthieu commented. Gilbert stopped laughing and started to blush.

"Shut up," Gilbert mumbled. Matthieu started to giggle.

"Oh, you actually do have a weakness? I was beginning to wonder," Matthieu smiled. Gilbert felt his cheeks heat up more and mentally pleaded for Feli to come and help him.

Even though he did come soon enough, the bubbly Italian commented on the state of his cheeks and started a story. He did that a lot. Luddy secretly loved it.

Gilbert laughed as the more irritable Italian came out of the kitchen and dragged his brother back in. Gilbert smiled at Matthieu.

"I'm glad you came vith me."

"Me, too."

"Sis could be a regular thing! You could get to know Feli und Vest, und vhen Antonio comes ve can annoy Lovino, und—" Gilbert started getting stopped by Matthieu.

"Gilbert?"

"Ja?" Gilbert looked at Matthieu, confused. The dancer paused.

"I… I'm not sure if we should keep…" Matthieu trailed off and Gilbert looked to him. He saw a look of sadness and confusion pass over his face. _Please don't leave._ "The others will talk. You know how they are."

Gilbert frowned he saw Matthieu shift in his chair turning away from him. _Oh birdie..._

"I thought you didn't care vhat sey thought," Gilbert didn't try to hide his disappointment.

"No, I don't—I don't care what they think, as long as they know I'm the best." Gilbert's mind was running. _How had his birdie gotten like this? Had something happened to him? Who initiated this?_ Gilbert almost didn't catch the dancer's next words.

"It was probably Papa, I've always had to be the best for him, and…" Gilbert listened to the quiet voice, his previous questions answered, and he replied,"Okay."

Gilbert saw Matthieu look up and he saw more confusion and thankfulness flash in his eyes.

"What?"

"I said 'okay'. Mattzieu..." Gilbert paused. _What was he going to say? Oh!_ "Mattzieu. Sat's okay. Everyvone has to be se best for somevone. For me, it's mein bruder... Even though I doubt he looks up to me anymore," Gilbert sighed. His brother. The straight-A's perfect kid with a not-so-perfect older brother.

"I'm sure he does more than you think," Gilbert looked to the blond, softening.

"Danke."

They were silent for the rest of the meal. Gilbert wanted to say something but he decided against it. As Feli came with the check, Gilbert took it to pay. Matthieu insisted that he should help but Gilbert refused, giving Matthieu a hard stare. The Prussian paid the bill.

"Maybe… how about we don't see each other outside of class for a while, see how that goes? A-and if it's terrible we can stop," Gilbert grabbed his coat and things as he listened. He didn't want what his birdie had just said to affect him too much, so he shrugged. "Okay, birdie."

 _Shit, I shouldn't have called him sat!_

"You have some strange nicknames," _Act casual, Gilbert, grin and brush it off._

"You're a strange person!"

"Stranger than you?"

"Oi! I am AWESOME!"

Gilbert was relieved that he was able to avoid birdie asking him about the nickname.

—

Gilbert was dying inside. It sounded like an exaggeration, but he was sleeping less, and eating less, and… well, thank gods for coffee and makeup. Not being able to see his birdie, his soulmate was literally killing him. _His soulmate? Really?_ But Gilbert knew it was true. He didn't know how, but it just made sense. And the minimal times he was able to talk with him during class wasn't enough. It was only about dance. He needed to get on with the partner dances—he'd been putting it off, waiting for someone to drop the class so they'd have an odd number, and he would be able to dance with his birdie. But they liked this class, and no one was dropping it. He couldn't put it off forever.

He introduced the lesson to the students and made them each find a partner. He saw Matthieu go to the Ukranian girl (or her go to him) and Gilbert narrowed his eyes a little. He looked pleased at the even number, but he didn't want it to be that way. Gilbert lined them up and started his teaching.

"Awesome. So, partner dances~ I'm supposed to teach you se "lady's part" und se "gentleman's part" but sat's dumb und outdated, und conservative. So you'll be learning leading und following instead! Because even se awesome me can't change se structure of se dances. You each will learn both parts by se end of se year. But for now, who leads und who follows is up to you~!"

Gilbert then wanted to test their knowledge of the types of dances and asked them what type of partner dances they knew. After listening to their stupid responses and he then taught them a brief history of each of them. Waltz, tango, foxtrot, Viennese waltz were some of them. Gilbert almost gagged talking about the Austrian Viennese waltz.

Class ended before anyone was actually able to dance. Good. One more day of procrastination. he promised they'd start Wednesday… though mostly it was a promise to himself.

—

And that Wednesday, they started with the waltz. He danced the part by himself. He wished his Mattie was in his arms dancing with him, but what could he do? He taught the steps to them, watched them dance and dismissed the class after they all seemed to learn it.

Friday came around and Gilbert was way overly pleased to see that Katushka wasn't to be found. Someone sad she was sick, but he didn't really much as Gilbert wanted for Matthieu to dance with him right away, when the single blond had asked what he should do Gilbert suggested that he dance alone for the time being. After all, Gilbert had to walk around the room and inspect the other dancers; help them, advise them, correct their poses. Gilbert watched Matthieu out of the corner of his eye and felt how lonely he seemed.

He quickly finished instructing the others and stepped closer to Matthieu. The talented dancer had his eyes closed as he moved to the music. Gilbert waited. He eventually found the perfect time to step in with him, flawlessly. He twirled back into Matthieu's hand in time, and saw Matthieu's eyes flutter open. Those beautiful violet eyes staring back at him in surprise caught him off guard, but he kept on dancing, and so did Matthieu. He saw the blond smile and he smiled back, letting him lead.

Gilbert felt his heart speed up as they kept going; he could feel the warm heat of his birdie's hand. Gilbert grinned, encouraging him to go on. With a spin, Gilbert switched into the lead role. He saw a small grin play on his birdie's lips. Peripherally, the teacher could see other groups stopping to watch but Gilbert didn't care. Frankly, he was ignoring them. He was finally dancing with his birdie. They danced in circles around the room, and when Gilbert noticed they were reaching the end of the song he let Matthieu twirl out of his hands. The song ended and Matthieu came back, even though he didn't have to. He smiled at Gilbert.

"Class dismissed," Gilbert told the rest of them; granted, it didn't actually end for another ten minutes, but it seemed the others didn't care. He gently let go of Matthieu's hand to turn off the music. Some of the kids wolf-whistled in their direction and left laughing. Gilbert stared at Matthieu who had stayed.

"Um…" the dancer began. Gilbert stopped him by taking his hand and started going through the moves with him again, dancing without music this time.

Gilbert didn't speak for a couple circles of the dance; he was deep in thought. How could he tell his birdie he loved him? How would he take him seriously? Gilbert took a deep breath and murmured, "I missed you. I liked it vhen I could see you outside of here."

"I—" Matthieu began, but Gilbert shushed him. "Nein. Shh…"

The blond closed his mouth.

"I thought about it a lot, ja? So don't say I don't know vhat I'm doing." Gilbert talked somewhat slowly.

"I know sey talk to you because of your performances, but I vould talk to you about anysing. I love being vith you. I—Ich liebe Dich." Gilbert lowered his voice and lowered his head a little, "I love you."

Gilbert studied Matthieu patiently hoping he wouldn't be opposed to the idea and looked at Matthieu again.

"...It makes sense. I love you, too."

Gilbert's eyes widen and he stepped back a little. He was still processing it when he felt Matthieu's lips on his and he kissed passionately back before they melted into darkness.

* * *

 **('It makes sense'? Really? You mean these dorks are remembering?  
Sort of. It comes quicker for Gilbert than it does for Mattie. If you have any questions, send us a review. Comments? Review. Rude remarks/just want to say hi/actual important thing to say? Review! We don't bite. Well, I don't. W-well, uh... nevermind.)  
(The next AU is fantasy-themed and it's gonna be great. I feel like 'fantasy prucan' _can_ go downhill really quickly, somewhat like 'prucan demon au' can, but... Eh, we're already writing the latter, and it's not terrible if I do say so myself! So go check it out if you haven't. And if you have, well... good on you. We'll be updating it in four days.)**


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